


goodbye, brother

by princessofthorns



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Mutual Pining, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26929327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessofthorns/pseuds/princessofthorns
Summary: Sansa was home alone. Well, almost home alone. Almost in the dark too, because the rain had caused a blackout in their neighborhood and the light that came from the candles was most definitely not much.Alone, in the dark, with her brother’s ex-fiancée - who he was still in love with and who she happened to have had a major, forbidden, consuming crush on ever since she was a teenager.
Relationships: Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell
Comments: 113
Kudos: 353





	1. my hands are shaking from holding back from you

**Author's Note:**

> I will continue this!
> 
> [Photoset.](https://bachianinhaone.tumblr.com/post/636950714329989120/goodbye-brother-sansa-was-home-alone-well)

Sansa just couldn’t fathom how in the hells that could have happened.

Like, the rain. It had been raining nonstop since the afternoon, and it was getting worse by the second and the city had _stopped_. What were the odds for that to happen exactly when everyone who lived at the Starks residence was out?

Whenever she needed to study, no one would go out. Whenever she wanted a moment alone with her ex-girlfriend, back when they were together, no one would go out. Whenever she needed to rest, or bake, or be alone even if for just one hour, it seemed like her family members would sense it and would purposely stay home, loud, and messy, slowly driving her insane.

But today of all days? Precisely when she needed them the most?

Okay, her parents had been traveling for a week - they were celebrating their 28th anniversary in the Summer Islands. And Arya was in Braavos for two weeks for a contest. So Sansa couldn’t blame the rain for them but - Bran and Rickon? They had stayed at the apartment grandfather Hoster had in Winterfell for the weekend; they were already supposed to be back if it weren’t for the fact that the streets were flooded and the traffic was chaotic and Hoster hadn’t felt safe to drive them back home.

And Jon and Robb… they had gone to father’s office to deal with some kind of emergency - and would apparently have to stay the night, according to the message Robb had sent her.

So Sansa was home alone. Well, almost home alone. Almost in the dark too, because the rain had caused a blackout in their neighborhood and the light that came from the candles was most definitely not much.

Alone, in the dark, with her brother’s ex-fiancée - who he was still in love with and who she happened to have had a major, forbidden, consuming crush on ever since she was a teenager.

“Did he say if they are okay?”, Margaery asked, pouring a glass of Arbor Gold for Sansa. With her other hand, she held her own glass, filled with the heady dark purple wine that belonged to her father’s personal stock.

“No, but there are a couple of mattresses kept in the storage and food in the fridge. They will be fine,” Sansa answered while accepting the wine.

They sat together on the couch, Sansa keeping the largest distance she could from her. It was an automatic move - Margaery had always liked to touch people constantly, and Sansa had perceived years before that that didn’t do any good for her.

“I gotta say I’m a little disappointed at the amount of Dornish wine you guys have in the cellar. I might have to stop saying Robb and I split up in good terms after all,” Margaery provoked with a smile.

 _Did you, though?_ Sansa wondered. She didn’t know any details on the ending of the seven-year-long relationship between Margaery and her brother; she and Robb were very close, but Sansa had never _shown_ him any interest in his involvement with the brunette - even though she had always been interested somehow.

Sansa placed her glass on the center table. “Yeah, I think ever since you guys broke up all of us silently agreed on switching to a wine brand that didn’t have your name stamped on the bottle.”

Margaery laughed. “It’s not my name, but I understand what you are saying.”

No, it wasn’t. _Redwyne_ wasn’t Margaery’s surname, but it was her grandmother’s. Olenna was the owner of the Redwyne Valley, the most prestigious vineyard in Westeros. Margaery had followed her steps into becoming a sommelier and was the family’s heiress.

“I knew I wasn’t absurd to bring my own little storage everywhere I traveled to,” Margaery took a sip of her wine. She didn’t place it next to Sansa’s, though. Margaery rarely let the glass out of her hand. “But did it have to be specifically Dornish? It seems a bit spiteful.” She winked, and Sansa gave a small laugh of her own. The Dornish Red was the toughest competition Margaery’s grandmother had. 

“Perhaps there is a bit of incidental repayment, who knows. I do thank you for this though,” Sansa gestured to the Arbor Gold, “I honestly can’t take those Dornish ones.”

Margaery sighed exaggeratedly. “Honey, these words almost arouse me more than anything any of my dates from the past months have said to me.”

Sansa gulped hard. _It was a joke_. She seized her drink from the table and took a longer sip, trying to ignore the familiar pinch she’d felt at the word _dates_.

Sansa changed the subject. “What is it that you have here?” Margaery had flown to Winterfell to get some things she’d left behind at the Stark mansion six months before when she left Robb.

“A few clothes, books, and documents.” She frowned slightly. “Do you think I should take the clothes and books back, though? Doesn’t it make me petty?”

Margaery had never asked Sansa for advice evolving Robb before. Sansa wasn’t positive if she wanted to talk about that, even if that had to do with their post-relationship. Still,

“I think it will hurt him if you take those things back. But I also think it will be good for him, having fewer things to remember you. It might help him get over it. Even if he doesn’t notice it at first.”

Margaery nodded lightly. She dropped her gaze, playing with the sofa fabric.

“By the way,” Sansa blurted out, trying to decrease some of the tension, and Margaery’s eyes snapped at her. “I gave Robb that trench coat I borrowed you last year, I don’t know if you remember. I gave it to him so he could return it to you, he said he put it in his bedroom with the other things.”

Margaery shook her head, “You don’t have to give it back to me, Sansa, it’s been with you for so long now. Besides, you look better in it than I do.”

“I very much don’t,” Sansa scoffed. _No one did._

Margaery beamed at that, but maintained, “Keep it.”

“No, I insist.”

Margaery giggled, “Why do you insist?”

_Because I need to get over you as much as Robb does._

“Just… I don’t like keeping things that weren’t purchased by me,” she concluded, nearly grimacing at how stupid it sounded. But at least Margaery accepted, nodding indifferently.

And then they fell into an uncomfortable silence once again. Sansa should’ve known she should’ve found a way to fill it because after a while Margaery spoke.

“How is he?”, she asked calmly.

 _Oh, Gods._ Sansa fought the urge to rub her hands on her face.

“He is… like anyone would be after ending an engagement with someone they’d been with for seven years.” 

Margaery didn’t _appear_ to be as unhappy as Robb was, though. At least in those couple of hours, since she had arrived at the Stark home, she had been as joyful and charming and radiant as she’d always been - that is, until that moment.

Margaery threw her a look that let Sansa know she was waiting for more, and Sansa sighed.

“Okay, I haven’t spoken to him about it. He was very upset when it happened, but he seemed to be getting better. Until you announced you were coming here.”

 _Jon also told me and Arya that he still loved you_ , she thought but preferred not to add.

“I see. It hasn't been the easiest time for me either.” At Margaery’s words, Sansa narrowed her eyes.

“What?” Margaery tilted her head, and a smirk played at her lips. “You don’t believe me?”

Sansa’s eyes grew. That conversation was not heading to where she wanted.

Because no, she didn’t believe her. And it wasn’t even because Margaery didn’t _look_ like she was struggling with a break-up, no. It was simply because she had never thought Margaery loved Robb in the first place.

For a while, Sansa wondered if her suspicion made sense. If it were something she had made up, something she _wanted_ to believe because of her own feelings for Margaery. But ultimately, she began to presume it was real.

It’s just that… Margaery had always appeared to be very sweet and considerate with Robb, but she was like that with everyone. And… okay, perhaps Sansa had over observed and over-analyzed, but she just found it so weird that someone so affectionate as Margaery had never seemed to return Robb's touches as intensively, at least not when they were at family gatherings.

Again, Sansa _could_ be seeing things where there were none - she had foolishly shared her considerations with her mother and Arya once, forcing it to come out as innocent gossip instead of something she would roll over in bed at night thinking about. And neither of them had agreed with her. Everyone saw them as the _match made in heaven._

And they were. They were excellent looking and wealthy and mad about each other. They met in college and got engaged at the age of twenty-five and were both the future of their families… which only made Sansa even more conspiratorial.

The thing was, Sansa’s parents had quite the influence in the country’s culinary scene as well. Her mother was a chef, and her family’s restaurant, the Silver Trout, had become at some point the most starred restaurant in the Riverlands. A couple of years after Robb had been born, when Catelyn was already pregnant with Sansa, she and her father moved to his hometown, Winterfell, and expanded the franchise, with the help of grandfather Rickard, who was an investor. Catelyn was the chef, and Ned and Rickard would work on the administration part.

The years went by, and right now there was one Silver Trout in the Stormlands, the Vale, Beyond the Wall, and _two_ in the Reach, one in Highgarden and one in the Arbor. _And_ , they were starting to speculate on the possibility of opening one in the Crownlands and one in Volantis, which was very exciting.

And the bond between Margaery and Robb had _a lot_ to do with all of that since the partnership between the Starks-Tullys and Olenna had been essential to leverage both businesses considerably in the last seven years (their cooperation hadn’t ended with the break-up, by the way, so Sansa very much hoped Margaery wouldn’t share the Dornish wine information with her grandmother). 

So yeah, Sansa hated to admit it (and would never, at least not out loud), but she did think there had been a matter of interest in their relationship and eventual engagement. Maybe not when it came to Robb - Sansa could read him well enough to see how madly in love he’d always been with Margaery - but maybe when it came to both of their families.

But of course, she wouldn’t share any of _that_ with Margaery.

“I’m sorry,” she clarified, “It’s just that you don’t _look_ upset. I know that we shouldn’t judge by appearances…”

“It’s alright,” Margaery shoved it with her hand. “I won’t lie to you, I have somehow moved on by now. But that doesn’t mean it’s been easy. I still love him, maybe not in the same way, but I will always care for him. And I miss him, and this house and all of you.”

She emphasized the last word with a wink at the redhead, who felt the same pull in her stomach she would feel whenever Margaery teased her or showed her any kind of fondness.

Sansa allowed herself a smile. “I’ve missed you too.” She had, so astonishingly much, but just not in the way Margaery would think she had.

Margaery glowed at her, that way she sometimes did, with no maliciousness, with no smirk, not a charming smile meant to win over whoever she was talking to. Just a beautiful, content smile.

They stayed quiet for a while, paying attention to the news channel Sansa had put on her computer while it still had battery until both of their glasses were empty and Margaery stood up to get the bottles.

“So,” she started, sitting back on the couch and filling their glasses. “How are _you_ doing, sweet girl? How are the classes?”

Sansa drank a bit at Margaery’s offer. “They’re going really well,” she nodded enthusiastically. Talking to Margaery about her postgraduate was safe; and it was a topic that always managed to put a smile on her face.

“Honestly, I wished the course was longer. I don’t think I’m ready to stop studying,” she revealed. Her master's in History was a two-year degree program, and she had just finished the first one.

Margaery chuckled, “I’m not surprised to hear that. I remember when your father asked you at family dinner what you were planning to do afterward and his face when you said you would move on to a Ph.D.”

Sansa laughed at the memory from one year before. “Yes, but I gotta say I think I will slow down for one year or so. The internship at the university takes more time than I thought it would. And also…”

She felt her smile dimming, and Margaery tilted her head. “What is it?”

“Sometimes I think I should just get a full-time job after all of this. My parents and Robb and Jon all started working so young, and I’m already twenty-four and-”

“Already twenty-four?”, Margaery chuckled. “Honey, you _are_ so, very young and the smartest girl I’ve ever met. You were born to do what you do, Sansa. I can see it in your eyes when you speak of your course, and your classes.” She touched the hand Sansa rested in the middle of the couch. “And I will see it when you’re in doctorate too.”

Sansa didn’t have it in her not to beam at that.

“What about you? How's it like being back in the south?”

“Wonderful.” She drank from her glass. “Of course, the Arbor is completely different from Highgarden. I knew that, having been there multiple times before, but being there for a living is a whole other story. But it’s good different, though.”

“And is it living up to your expectations when it comes to working? I know you’ve wanted to be more involved in the company.”

That was the only reason for their break-up that Sansa was aware of. Margaery had wanted to move south, living closer to the vineyard and being able to participate more in the business and decision making, instead of just representing them up north. She had heard her mother telling her father that Robb had begged for a long-distance relationship but Margaery had said it wouldn’t work, and when he hesitantly suggested moving there with her, she refused, saying she knew he would end up unhappy. Sansa agreed.

“Absolutely, it’s amazing. Living so close to my grandmother is... more fun than tiring, and I’m traveling a lot.”

“I know, I’ve seen the pictures on your Instagram.” Sansa had seen her pictures in King’s Landing, Pyke, Dragonstone, Casterly Rock and so many other places.

Margaery smiled at her. “Yeah, it’s really fun.”

They continued to chit chat for a while, and Margaery had already finished her third glass when she mused, “And have you been seeing someone, sweet girl?”

Sansa wasn’t sure, but she was almost sure that Margaery’s voice had become just a tiny bit more hoarse.

“I’ve been to a couple of dates in the past months, and I’ve been with a couple of people, but nothing serious at all. Not since Mya.”

Mya Stone was the daughter of her father’s best friend and Sansa’s ex-girlfriend. They had dated for two years until they grew apart. Sansa had really liked her, and she had practically made her forget about Margaery. Of course, her heart would still beat a tad faster depending on what Margaery did and she still had to avert her eyes whenever Robb hugged her from behind or kissed her neck, but mostly, her attention was much more at Mya.

 _Until_ they broke up, that is - ever since, it seemed like Sansa’s crush on the brunette had multiplicated.

“What about you?” _The wine_ , the voice at the back of Sansa’s head said. It was the wine that made her ask that question. “You’ve said you’ve been to dates. Anything promising?”

“Not exactly,” Margaery replied slowly.

“Are the Arbor men too frustrating?” _Why are you still talking?_

“Most of my dates have actually been with women.”

Oh, yeah. Margaery liked women too. She’d always known that - when she’d come out as bisexual, six years before, Margaery had tried to talk to her, some kind of supportive understanding conversation, one that Sansa would have loved to have with anyone. Anyone who wasn’t the prohibited object of her affection, that is.

Sansa had always _known_ Margaery liked women, but she refused to think about it. That would open doors to what-ifs and alternative universes she wouldn’t bear to have opened.

“Oh, I see.” Sansa lowered her eyes to her lap.

It took her ten seconds to realize Margaery hadn’t stopped looking at her; what seemed like a confused look on her face, as if she were trying to solve a Math problem.

“Did you like Mya?”

Sansa met glassy eyes. “Of course,” her voice merely a whisper.

“Did you love her?”

Sansa took the deepest breath she could take without seeming weird; she had drunk a few glasses herself and was more than a little afraid to say something she would regret later.

“I did. I loved her while we were together.”

“You like older women then?” Margaery inquired with her lopsided smirk taking place, causing the dimple on her right cheek to surface.

“I…” Mya was seven years older than her; Margaery was three. “Perhaps I like them a bit older, yes.” And irrationally, she shot back. “What’s your type?”

Margaery raised her eyebrows. “I don’t have one. But I haven’t been with many women. A few before your brother, one after him. So I would prefer someone more experienced than I am.”

“I’m more experienced than you.”

No. She hadn’t said that. No.

Margaery’s eyes sparkled. “Are you?”

“I mean, I-”, _oh, Gods_ , “I did spend two years exclusively dating a woman so… yes.”

That’s it, she wasn’t drinking anymore that night. She set her glass back on the center table the moment her computer went off - which meant less light. And more silence.

“Do you know if Robb has dated anyone ever since we’ve ended?”

Sansa shook her head. No, she wasn’t doing that. 

“I won’t tell you that, Margaery.”

And Margaery just smiled. “I honestly wouldn’t mind it.”

And then Sansa realized she should’ve stopped drinking earlier because the words left her before she could contain herself, “Did you ever love my brother at all?”

“Of course,” Margaery’s response came immediately; she was sincere.

Sansa didn’t let up. “Did you ever love him like a bride should love her groom?”

“Of course.”

Anyone else would have accepted that answer just like they would have trusted the first one; her tone was honest, with just the right hint of emotion. But Sansa could read people very well - she could read _Margaery_ very well. And she knew Margaery had spoken the truth at first; she hadn’t now.

“Don’t lie to me,” she spoke tenderly. It wasn’t an ultimatum - it was a request.

Margaery seemed somewhat startled for a moment; she hadn’t expected Sansa to question her words. Anyone hardly did. A beat went by before she gave a watery smile.

“He was my best friend. The person I loved the most in the whole world. The man of my dreams. The life I had always pictured for myself.”

She hadn’t lied in anything she’d said, Sansa noticed. But that still wasn’t a positive answer to her question, and Margaery hadn’t tried to give her one.

“I tried to love him the way I should. I did.” It sounded like she was pleading. “I was the best girlfriend and fiancée anyone could ever have. I was loyal, and I was his rock. Not only because it was my obligation, but because I cared for him so much. I still do, and I always will. But inside, no. I didn’t love him the way he deserved.” 

Sansa realized that somehow they were sitting much closer than they had been before, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Margaery was opening up to her. She was not only proving that Sansa wasn’t insane, that she hadn’t been imagining things, no - she was opening up to _her_ , of all people.

She seemed… well, not vulnerable, but it did seem like she was sharing something she hadn’t shared with anyone before.

“I’m sorry.” When she turned her head to face Sansa, their proximity became even more palpable. “You shouldn’t hear these things about your own brother.”

“Don’t feel guilty about opening up.” She covered Margaery’s hand with her own. “Is that why you guys split up?”

Margaery sat back on the couch, and Sansa followed her. “Sort of. I truly wanted to move south, be closer to what I work with, being able to cooperate the way I do now. Here up north, sometimes I felt like I was a partner, rather than an actual member of my grandmother’s company. There were so many important things that I wasn’t being a part of, that I wasn’t being consulted, and I didn’t want that.”

She lowered her gaze to their joined hands on the sofa, examined for a second. “But had I loved him enough, I would have found a way to keep our relationship as it was, even with the distance.”

“The decision wasn’t easy,” she went on. “My grandmother didn’t accept it at first.” _I wonder why._ “But eventually she realized that she couldn’t stop me. So it happened.”

She raised her gaze to Sansa again, tilting her head, as if she were daring to see her reaction.

“I don’t judge you, Margaery. I feel sorry for Robb, of course, but you couldn’t choose how you felt.”

She gave a pretty smile; not one of relief, at Sansa’s understanding, but one that made it look like she found Sansa adorable. It wasn’t the first time she shot her one of those.

“Thank you, darling.”

She squeezed Sansa’s hand gently, brushed her thumb over her knuckles, so, so smoothly. Sansa almost closed her eyes at the feeling.

“It wasn’t just a business decision, you understand,” her voice was back at the tone it had been minutes before; almost throaty. “I was doing it for me as well.”

She was studying Sansa so attentively, loaded doe eyes fixed on blue ones. Sansa thought she would lose herself in them.

“I wanted to have things Robb, unfortunately, hadn’t been able to give me. I wanted to feel things… things that I made _him_ feel.”

“Like what?”, left Sansa in a breath.

The curve on Margaery’s lips was almost imperceptible. “I wanted to _want_ to kiss him whenever he gave me presents, not just hug him. I wanted to cuddle at night and not feel suffocated. I wanted to feel excited to come home to him, not because he was my safe place and I wanted to tell him about my day, but because I couldn’t wait to get my hands on him.”

And then she completed, “I wanted mind-blowing sex and not just regular one.”

Sansa swallowed a gasp. “Mind-blowing?”, she forced out weakly.

“Yes.” Sansa felt the words against her face and realized they were closer than ever. “I wanted to lose myself at night. I wanted someone who made me forget about anything else; I want somebody who can take control.”

Sansa wasn’t sure her brain was functioning anymore.

“Which is why you wanted someone more experienced.”

“Exactly.” This time, Sansa _saw_ the word leaving Margaery’s lips. Because she was staring at them, and they were closer by the instant.

Until they almost reached her, before pausing, as if wanting to give Sansa a chance to back down. As if that weren’t something she’d been waiting for, ever since she was seventeen years old.

Sansa moved forward, blue eyes remaining open so she would be sure that was genuinely happening; that it wasn’t just a product of her imagination, or a dream, like so many others she’d had.

Before falling close once she tasted Margaery’s lips; it was impossible not to. She captured Margaery’s bottom lip, and it was _so_ unbelievably soft, a lingering remnant of the wine noticeable. Sansa’s heart hammered inside her chest, and had her brain worked properly, she would have known it wasn’t just the touch of Margaery’s lips.

It was everything, Margaery’s faint breathing against her mouth, the heat emanating from her skin. The fragrance she wore, fresh lavender-like. The hold she had on Sansa’s left hand, tender yet firm, like she didn’t want Sansa to let go.

It took them a little while to start moving, until their kiss became soft brushes and gentle pecks, not passionate at all, but enough to have Sansa know she would be breathless once they separated. She wanted so much more from Margaery, but at that moment she thought she could spend the rest of her life doing that. Doing nothing but moving their lips together, her only other motion being the almost careful hold her right hand had on Margaery’s face, stroking the sensitive skin below her eye with her thumb.

Until the memory of Margaery’s voice came to her, almost like a reminder, _I want somebody who can take control._ With that, her hand dipped into chestnut brown hair, grabbing a fistful of it; making sure Margaery felt it. And being instantly rewarded by a small gasp inside her mouth.

They both deepened the kiss at the same time, their tongues meeting and Sansa letting out a low moan. And then Margaery sucked at her tongue, sending a shockwave all the way to where Sansa’s thighs met. Sansa wondered how - if - she was going to last.

Sansa didn’t know how long they remained at that, if it were two minutes or ten seconds; all she knew was that Margaery's hands met Sansa’s jaw, nails slightly digging into the nape of her neck, not enough to cause pain but enough to let her know she was there. And Sansa used her now free hand to stroke Margaery’s thigh - she was wearing incredibly tight jeans that fit her flawlessly, and a white blouse with a plunging neckline; and a long necklace that had made it hard for Sansa to avert her eyes from where it landed.

Sansa however, wore a white tank top and her grey pajamas shorts. So when she migrated her hand from Margaery's thigh to her waist, slowly guiding her to lie on the couch, and quickly moved to lie just on top of her, plenty of her body was in direct contact with Margaery’s - even if still not as much as she wanted.

_I want somebody who can take control._

Margaery’s legs immediately crossed around Sansa’s waist, and the redhead surpassed a smile while descending her kisses from Margaery’s lips to her neck. With the reminiscence of Margaery’s words from earlier still very much alive in her mind, she was not as gentle as she dreamed she would be whenever she carelessly pictured that moment. Actually, she sucked at her collarbone and nipped at the skin of her throat just as hungrily as she, deep down, _knew_ she would be. Because, how could she not? She had wanted Margaery’s body for so long, how she had ever thought she could go slow after having a taste of it was beyond her.

She continued her instinctive attack - she wasn’t thinking. The high of being with Margaery made it impossible for her to, especially once she felt Margaery’s fingers stroking her back, sliding under her tank top and scratching her sides. Especially when one of her hands slipped back out, running up the fabric of her top until it reached her head; pulling Sansa’s hair back, peeling her off of her neck. And before Sansa could know what was happening, Margaery’s lips were on her jaw, and then down, planting open mouth kisses on her neck, making Sansa’s lips fall open at the feeling. Before Margaery kissed her way to Sansa’s ear, licking the shell of it and whispering, “I want you.”

_Fuck._

Margaery Tyrell was under her. Kissing her, and touching her, and sighing at Sansa’s doing, and _wanting_ her.

Sansa ducked down once again, not hesitating even for a second before attaching her lips to Margaery’s chest this time around, kissed her way down until she was just where her neckline ended, her face between her breasts. She kissed the top of them, her tongue darting out, and Sansa kneaded both of them at the same time with each one of her hands; encouraged by the hold Margaery had in her hair and the groan that left her lips.

Her hands were just wandering to the hem of Margaery’s shirt when, all of the sudden, the lights were back on, and she heard voices. She wasn’t sure how many years of her life she lost at that moment.

She lifted her head straight away, both of her trembling arms supporting her up while her eyes grew and her breathing got caught in her throat.

Everything froze, and all she could think of was _Robb, it’s Robb, he’s seen me with my mouth on his fiancée’s boobs and my marks on her skin and_ -

Until it was clear that it wasn’t Robb, or anyone else. The power was back, and the voices she had heard came from the television they hadn’t bothered to disconnect before.

She gradually came back to herself, her heart still pounding more loudly than it should, her arms still shaking, when she heard Margaery’s giggle. She looked down at her, at her perfect face, her eyes amused and mischievous as she pulled Sansa’s face back to her.

Sansa could never think that grabbing Margaery’s fists to stop her and jumping off of the couch could ignite such an actual physical ache through her body.

Margaery’s eyes were big, questioning, and just the tiniest bit desperate as she sat up and stared at Sansa in confusion.

“I’m sorry, Margaery,” she forced out, hating herself more than ever before. “We can’t-”

She rubbed her face violently, distinguishing that as a moment she would remember for the rest of her life. Most definitely not in a good way.

“We could never.” It left her in a whisper; she felt too weak to speak any louder.

Not that she needed to. Cognizance filled two gorgeous doe eyes as Margaery slowly stood from the couch, both hands stroking her hair back.

“I’m sorry, Sansa. I’m sorry, I-” 

That was probably the most unhinged Margaery Tyrell could ever get, shaking her head vehemently, hands covering her mouth - she truly seemed like she didn’t understand how any of that had happened.

It only added to the misery Sansa already knew she would spend months, if not more, feeling.

“I shouldn’t have started this, I’m so so sorry.”

As Margaery proceeded to look around almost incredulously as if she were only now discerning where she was - at the house she had lived in for two years, engaged to the man who happened to be the brother of the woman she had almost gone to bed with - Sansa comprehended that _she_ wasn’t really the person Margaery was apologizing to.

Margaery had needed a minute that felt like an eternity to recompose; looking directly at Sansa’s tortured eyes and speaking with the firmest voice Sansa thought she could achieve.

“I’ll get my things now. I’ll send Robb a message saying I went back to my hotel for the night.”

Sansa wasn’t even sure whether she'd nodded or not. If her brain wasn’t functioning before, now it certainly wasn’t any better, especially at the sound of her brother’s name.

When Margaery went upstairs, Sansa ran to the bathroom. She sat down on the floor, covering her own mouth now, the panic increasingly taking her over.

_What the fuck was I thinking? What the fuck have I done?_

She screamed that repeatedly inside her mind until she heard the sound of the front door opening and then shutting.

She forced herself up, leaving the bathroom and walking in heavy steps to the door; locking and leaning against it. Her throat burned.

She turned off each one of the lights and the TV, blew out the candles, and grabbed her computer from the center table. It was a long way to her room. As she arrived at the corridor upstairs, the unavoidable question made its way to her mind.

_Will he ever forgive me?_

To her surprise, her door was opened. She was sure she had left it closed.

She didn’t bother turning the lights on once she entered her bedroom; merely locked her door and placed her computer on her desk. She felt empty as she threw herself in bed.

It took her a while to realize that the surface under her didn’t feel the same. She sat up, touching whatever was in her bed. She didn’t need light to see what it was.

Margaery’s trench coat, the one that had been in Robb’s room. The one Margaery was supposed to take away with her, to take any remnants of her out of that house and out of their lives and their hearts.

She lied back in bed, closing her eyes shut and bringing the coat to her nose. Inhaling the scent she had felt so much more vividly just minutes before.

The scent she now loathed, longed for, and missed, more than ever before.

It was enough to finally bring the tears to her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As said, I will continue this! As soon as possible, hopefully in two weeks. Visual for Margaery's [coat](https://br.pinterest.com/pin/304696731019298843/?nic_v2=1a5QqcrZq).
> 
> Please leave kudos if you've liked it and comment with what you thought?


	2. exile seeing you out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys! In this chapter there will be a few flashbacks and time-lapses, so keep in mind that the eventful night that took place in chapter 1 happened on **October 09th, 2020** , so you can keep track on how much time has passed.

**_January 09th, 2016_ **

_Margaery’s fingers trembled as she placed one pear slice on top of the other. She had caramelized the fruit in the wine itself; her goal was to rebuild the pear without its core. She used the whipper to make the Mascarpone and Gorgonzola cream and stuff the fruit with it._

_As she finished, the golden pear slices resembled the fruit’s original shape. It was so gorgeous, it didn’t even look like she had been the one to do it. She had never been interested in cooking, or even appreciating food; drinking was her thing. But a big part of her job consisted of harmonizing wine with food, so she hadn’t really had anywhere to run to._

_She took a picture of her masterpiece before ruining it. She opened the unlabeled bottle of wine and poured some for herself; it was the new Moscatel wine her grandmother was producing, set to enter the market in one year or so - it was fresh and planned to work with sweets, raw ham, and some types of cheese._

_At her first bite, she closed her eyes for a moment, assimilating the taste. She seized the wine, scanning the liquid, swirling the glass, smelling it, and, finally, tasting it._

_She smiled. It was perfect._

_She had just sat on the kitchen table to write to her grandmother about the results when she heard it, “Oh, my Gods, what is this smell? Mom, why are you cooking at three in the-”, and then saw Sansa’s surprised semblance as she took her in._

_Margaery grinned. “Not what you expected, sweetling?”_

_“Not at all.” Sansa approached her. “What are you doing?”_

_“It’s a pear with gorgonzola cream and muscat caramel. Want to try?”_

_She lifted her fork to Sansa’s lips, slightly grazing her chin with her other hand as she kept it below the cutlery._

_Sansa blushed a bit as she accepted it, and Margaery grinned. She grinned even further as the redhead exclaimed, “It’s so good.”_

_“Enough to have you thinking it’s your mother’s?”_

_“Let’s not exaggerate.”_

_Margaery laughed, tapping her lightly on the arm. And then looking up and down at her._

_Sansa had just come back from the party she had been to, she understood. She was still wearing her short but not too short black dress and now her heels were in her hand. Her hair a little tousled and her make-up just a bit smudge, she still looked as pretty as she had once she’d left._

_“How was the party?”, Margaery asked as Sansa sat on the chair next to hers._

_“It was nice,” she grimaced, “It would have been nicer if I hadn't spent twenty minutes holding Jeyne’s hair up, though.”_

_Margaery chuckled. “That’s what friends are for. Are you going to tell me she has never done the same for you?”_

_Sansa pucked her eyebrows as she shook her head. “Never. And suddenly I’m afraid of the type of friend you are to yours.”_

_“Not stories for tonight, darling. Want to help me finish this?”_

_Sansa nodded, moving her body closer to the pear and, consequently, closer to Margaery._

_The brunette tilted her head as she smirked. “Don’t you want to grab your own fork? Unless, of course, you want me to keep feeding you.”_

_Sansa stood up in a jump to grab a fork from the drawer behind them, and Margaery smiled to herself. It would never fail to amuse her, how Sansa acted whenever she was near her._

_They ate the whole dish, Margaery taking long sips of the wine Sansa had vehemently reclined._

_“I was surprised to see you and Robb home on a Friday night.”_

_“Yeah,” Margaery licked the back of her fork. “I’m taking this entire weekend to work. My grandmother is trusting me with this,” she pointed to the now almost empty bottle, suddenly aware that she had been the one to drink all of that. “It’s such a big project, I’m very nervous about it.”_

_She wasn’t that nervous, though; she was too confident, but sharing insecurities was a way to build rapport and it came almost automatically to her._

_“You will do great,” Sansa beamed at her. “You are so hardworking and the smartest woman I know, you’ll succeed in anything you try.”_

_Margaery was used to being on the end of Sansa’s devoted eyes, and she treasured it - who wouldn’t be flattered to be noticed like that by a pretty girl like her - but her honest tone on Margaery’s work caught her by surprise._

_“Thank you, sweetling,” she shot her best smile and found the trace of whatever alcohol Sansa had had at the party at the way the redhead didn’t instantly avert her eyes, the way she always would; holding Margaery’s gaze instead._

_“What are you planning for your last weekend before the classes return?”_

_“Nothing.” Sansa played with the ends of her hair. “I just want to sleep everything I won’t be able to anymore.”_

_“A nice notion. In fact, I think I’ll be following your steps right now. I’ll just write to my grandmother and go upstairs.”_

_“Yeah, me too,” Sansa yawned, and grabbed her small purse. “Goodnight, Marge.”_

_She mentioned leaving the kitchen, but Margaery stopped her. “Wait.” She raised a small piece of paper that had probably fallen from Sansa’s clutch. There was a phone number written on it, the name Mya under it._

_As Sansa took the note from her, Margaery inquired, “Who is Mya?”_

_“It’s Robert Baratheon’s daughter. I hadn’t seen her in years, but we ran into each other tonight. She said we should hang out sometime.”_

_“Oh,” it was all that left Margaery’s lips._

_“Goodnight.” Sansa waved clumsily as she left the kitchen._

_Okay, what is this about, Margaery questioned herself._

_She knew Mya Stone, Robert’s daughter. Knew and had heard stories of her, about her life in the Vale._

_Why did she feel bothered by the fact that Mya had given her number to Sansa though, she wouldn’t know._

_Except that she did._

_Margaery rested her face in her hands. Fuck._

_The thing was - Margaery was aware that Sansa had some kind of infatuation with her. She’d been aware of it for years, and had always thought it was very cute and, as the years went by, quite flattering; Sansa was becoming a very gorgeous woman after all._

_And, as inappropriate as it sounded, Margaery had to admit (to herself), that she’d felt somewhat attracted to Sansa for the last year or so. It wasn’t a big deal; it was a normal attraction she would feel towards other nice-looking people in her life - nothing to lose sleep about._

_Which was why she couldn’t understand at first why she’d disliked the renewed connection between Sansa and the famously greatest lesbian of the Eyre._

_Until she did. Of course. It was her very well known (by her) conceited, narcissistic side showing its ugly head - again. As usual. She liked Sansa’s attention. And she wasn’t fond of the idea of Sansa paying that attention to somebody else._

_She’d always been a bit self-absorbed like that; when the boys that she would reject in high school found themselves a girlfriend or when one of the nightstands she used to have before Robb got into a serious relationship after her; it was a huge and detrimental flaw, but she was used to it._

_And she could live with it as long as she wasn’t a bitch about it, anyway._

_That was it. That’s why she felt so vexed about Sansa and Mya hanging out, or whatever they would be doing. That was all._

_So she just refocused on sending her grandmother whatever it was that she had to send._

**October 10th, 2020**

The back of Sansa’s eyes stung as she tried to open them. She hadn’t slept much, for sure. Her throat was rawer than it should be and there was a not entirely physical ache in her chest. It took her about three seconds to recall what it was.

The dark green trench coat covered her like a blanket, and she avoided looking at it as she pushed it aside to leave the bed.

As she addressed her door, she came to a stop; it was ten o’clock, she checked, which meant they all were probably having breakfast by now - _they._ Her brothers, including Robb.

She sat back on the bed, leaning her face in her hands. That was it. She would have to do it now. She would have to tell him what had happened, and her breathing went from quiet to gasping in a millisecond.

In the previous night, in one single moment of desperation and lunacy, she had considered not telling him. She had considered messaging Margaery, begging her to keep it to herself as well; for a minute, she was willing to bury that with her and hide it forever.

Of course, that hadn’t lasted; she would never be able to live with herself if she did that. Would never be able to look him in the eyes again; not that she was too much of an optimistic to presume _he_ would want to look at her after she ultimately told him the truth.

Her head ached as pictures of herself and Robb flowed inside her mind; they had always been so close… she wasn’t ready to let that go. But her own actions from the night before didn’t give her much of a choice.

She didn’t know how long she remained where she was, trying to gather some courage; before realizing that courage to do what she had to do would never come, and forcing herself up and out the door.

Rickon was doing the cooking while the other three were waiting around the kitchen table - Jon with his face buried in his phone and Robb and Bran talking agitatedly about something.

And it was Bran who noticed Sansa standing there; watching them.

“Good morning!”

They all greeted her promptly, and Robb’s smile once he saw her didn’t do any good for her.

She only managed a nod before nearly choking when Robb asked, “How was last night?”

“What?”

“Last night,” Robb raised his eyebrows. “The blackout?”

“Oh,” Sansa let out a breath, “It was normal, I mean… I was home after all. You guys, uh, how was it like for you?”

And then both Robb and Jon began to talk about their night, about how they had arm-wrestled to decide who would have to sleep on the floor and other things Sansa hadn’t been able to grasp.

“Robb,” she interrupted. “I’m sorry, but can I talk to you? In private?”

Her tone was more serious than she would’ve liked it to be, and she felt a pang at the concerned expression on her brother’s face as he stood up and followed her.

“Is everything okay?”, Robb’s words rang in her ears as she closed her bedroom door behind them.

“Yes,” left her automatically, even though she most definitely wasn’t okay and didn’t exactly intend to pretend so.

“I’ve actually been wanting to talk to you as well,” he sat on Sansa’s desk. “About Margaery.”

Sansa swallowed at the sound of the name coming from his lips and managed a small nod. “What about her?”

“It’s just,” he chuckled miserably, scratching his head. “What were the odds for this blackout to happen on the exact day I was going to see her after all this time? She messaged me at two in the morning telling me she had to leave, and when I suggested meeting her for lunch she refused, saying her flight back home was too early.”

He looked helpless, and Sansa was almost sick in her stomach. He probably took her silence as an invitation to keep talking.

“How was she like? Did she say anything about me?”

Sansa focused her gaze at the window behind him. “I, uh, she was… normal. And I don’t remember. If she said, uh, anything.” _Gods, you’re so…_

She refrained from rolling her eyes at herself as her heartbeat increased. She observed as Robb lowered his head, stroked his reddish curls back; he looked so crestfallen, as he murmured, “I thought that perhaps, seeing her in person… after all these months, I could maybe convince her, have her change her mind. Or maybe she would come to me and tell _me_ that she’d missed me. That being so far away, for so long, had made her rethink everything.”

He shook his head as he rubbed his eyes. “I swear to you, a part of me genuinely hoped that she had only given some excuse when she said she was coming here to get her things back. And then when I arrived home… everything that was hers was gone.” 

Sansa was pressing her lips so hard at the break of her heart. She’d seen how devastated Robb had been after the break-up, but he had never spoken so freely about that to her - she almost wanted to curse him for choosing to do so in that exact moment; as if only to increase the corrupt, immoral feeling she had weighting in her chest.

It was all so heavy.

“Anyway,” he sat back on the chair, raising his eyes to her. “I’m sorry, I’m just pissed at myself for having had any hope at all. I shouldn’t be spilling this out on you, not when you have something to say.” And then he met her eyes as expectantly as he accomplished it, and Sansa stilled.

His words on Margaery didn’t make it any easier for her to talk. But she had made up her mind, and she knew that the sooner she spoke, the sooner the agony burning inside her chest would be gone; even if it to be replaced by an even worse feeling.

As she collected the strength she needed to say what she had to say, their eyes didn’t leave one another. She stared deeply into his blue eyes, so similar to hers. People had always said how much they looked like each other; she had never noticed it until that moment.

“Robb, I-”, she drew in a sharp breath. And then let it go. “Last night, Margaery and I kissed.”

 _A lot_ , said the improper voice in her head. _With much more tongue than you would’ve liked it but much less than I would; I licked her cleavage and squeezed her breasts and she moaned in my ear about how she wanted me._

Yes, perhaps saying that they had just _kissed_ was a bit of dishonesty, but Sansa decided to leave it at that; forced herself to focus on Robb’s reaction instead.

At how his expression didn’t change for a long moment, to the frown of his brows. He truly looked like he hadn’t understood. Or perhaps what her revelation contained was so off the charts he couldn’t possibly bring himself to believe.

“Kissed?”, his voice, though, was much sharper than it had been before, and Sansa shivered.

“We, we-”, Sansa grabbed her thigh, trying to control her shaky hand. “We made out,” she concluded so weakly, she wondered if he had heard her.

He had.

_“Made out?”_

He covered his mouth with his right hand, his eyes slowly moving from one side to the other as if he were truly dealing with an unexpected riddle that had just been thrown in his face. It would be comical if it weren’t the worst moment of Sansa’s life.

“Wait, you’re telling me,” his voice was just as sharp as it had been before, his eyes losing all the sweetness that it had _always_ had. “You hooked up with the woman I was engaged to months ago? _You._ My sister. My best friend,” the twinge Sansa felt at those last words was unmatched.

She finally said the words she already knew she would be repeating quite a few times, “Robb, I’m so sorry.”

“No!”, he exclaimed, as he stood up and took a few steps back into the room. “How?”, he pleaded, “How did this happen? Because seriously, I can’t even _begin_ to fathom.”

“I-,” Sansa began, feeling a heat inside her head she had never felt before; her heart felt like it would burst. “We were drinking-”

“It was a drunken moment then?”, he spitted out, and Sansa replied way too quickly,

“No!”, but perhaps it would’ve been less bad if she’d said it had been?

“So how was it?”, he demanded. He crossed his arms under his chest and inhaled; Sansa figured he was trying to put out a composure, but it was difficult when his feet were moving quickly and his breathing was so rapid.

Sansa clasped her hands together as she tried to swallow back the already expected tears that threatened to come out. “We were,” _talking about how she had never really loved you and how she wanted someone like me to fuck her,_ “Talking, about life, really… and then there was a moment, and it happened.”

“A moment, then?”, he huffed. “A moment is all it takes for you to betray me?”

And that was it; she felt her face crumble as her voice broke, “Robb-”

“Then what happened?”

And then it just got worse because Robb’s eyes watered too; he had always hated seeing Sansa crying - when they were very little, he used to burst into tears whenever she would. The fact that that was happening once again for completely different reasons made Sansa…

She didn’t even know how to describe it.

He closed his eyes. “Sansa, did you sleep with her?”

“No”, she denied, loud and firm; that was one wrong thing she _hadn’t_ done, she’d better let it as clear as she could.

A heavy silence filled the room. Robb shook his head, turning his back to Sansa for a few seconds; her tears running so freely now, her palms weren’t having the best time in trying to dry them.

Until she could no longer endure the silence. “Robb,” her voice tentative, “Please, try to understand-”

“No, you should understand,” he turned around, his face also stained. He didn’t look angry at all anymore; merely hurt. Which was worse.

“You should understand that this is not high school, and you didn’t make out behind the football stands with the girl I was seeing that week.” Sansa had never seen him so grave.

“I was going to _marry_ her, Sansa. I spent seven years of my life with her. She’s the person I love. Do you have _any_ idea what this means? How the more I think about what you’ve just said, the less I can believe it?”

Sansa sobbed, and tried to nod, but he kept going, “So you can just, oh my Gods, hook up with her because-”, he halted as he swung his head, “Is this really who you are, Sansa?”

Through her tears, Sansa questioned what he meant.

“What was it that you said, a _moment?_ Is that really all it takes for a pretty woman when it comes to you?”

A wrath Sansa had not anticipated came raging into her chest, and before she knew, “I’ve always loved her!”

Well.

The silence that came after that was thick, to say the least. Robb was agape, and his eyes had grown wide.

Her mother. Arya. Her best friend Jeyne. So many times had Sansa contemplated telling any of them about her biggest secret. She hadn’t, though; the fewer people knew, the less it would be real. And it was already real enough.

There was something intriguing about Robb being the first one to know.

“Always.” She smiled poorly.

She sat on the chair previously occupied by him, and her shaky legs thanked her. “Of course I’d always try to bury inside of me as much as I could. It was not easy, at the beginning especially. I wasn’t completely well resolved with my sexuality yet and I felt so disgusted with myself that out of all women, yours was the one that I wanted.”

She stared at hands, resting one on each of her knees. It was coming out and she didn’t intend to stop just yet. “And eventually I made my peace with it. As the years went by. I knew my place and I understood that, no matter what happened, engaged or not engaged, married or not married, broken-up or not, _you_ had met her first and I would just have to live with it.”

Her throat tightened and it was harder for her to say what she still wanted to. But she managed it anyway. “I would have to live with the fact that you had met her first and that I would never, ever, be able to even try and have what I wanted so bad.” And then her head fell forward on its own accord as she began to cry all over again.

As she fought to recompose, she looked at Robb’s pained eyes. Waiting - for him to say something. Anything.

He did.

It took him a moment, as he opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, seemingly not sure of what to say. Until finally, “That’s no excuse.”

Sansa sat upright, not quite believing her own ears. Was that it?

She was at her lowest, and that was all he had to say?

Deep down, she knew that was nonsense, maybe even egotistical. He had been the one to be _betrayed,_ not her. Still, a part of her expected any kind of sensibility from her brother. Any kind of understanding. And yet,

“At the very least, you should have talked to me. Your feelings for her are no excuse,” he repeated.

“I wasn’t trying to give you any,” Sansa’s reply came immediately, her voice all of the sudden more controlled than it had been throughout their whole conversation. “That was solely an explanation.”

Their gaze at each other had never been so intense; something had broken between them.

She went to her feet, eyes never leaving him. “What happened last night will not be happening ever again. Simply because I won’t be seeing her ever again. I won’t look or even talk to her.”

 _Because I’d rather die before causing any more harm to our relationship,_ she wanted to say - had rehearsed saying, even. But now, with the course their exchange had taken, it felt entirely inappropriate.

Especially when all she got in return from him was a shrug.

Sansa wondered if it was possible to feel any worse. And it was, because Robb right after, almost magnetically, turned his eyes to her bed.

To the dark green coat lying on top of it.

_I didn’t even bother to hide it._

She could almost hear what was on his mind at that moment. How Sansa had given him that same coat, days before, affirming it had to return to its owner.

How Margaery had taken all of the things she had with him; but had left behind the one thing that _belonged_ to Sansa.

She knew he was wondering what that meant. A significant part of her did, too.

But he didn’t say anything. Merely took long steps towards the door, avoiding Sansa’s eyes, and shut it behind him once he left.

**_February 25th, 2018_ **

_“Will you marry me?”_

_Margaery’s breath caught in her throat as she looked down at the red-haired man kneeling in front of her._

_Of course, he had chosen a family dinner to propose. For a millisecond, Margaery wondered why. If the decision had come purely from the want of having such a special moment shared with their loved ones, or if, deep down, Robb suspected Margaery could say no and supposed that asking her in front of other people would reduce any chance of rejection._

_That was a millisecond of stupidity, of course. Robb would never conjecture a denial from Margaery; no one would._

_The right heartfelt smile crossed Margaery’s face as she took a quick glance around the Starks behind them. Catelyn’s eyes shining as she beamed, Ned and Jon sharing the same timid but gratified smile, Arya looking… attentive, which was a positive reaction coming from her; Bran, Rickon, and Theon, Robb’s best friend, were radiant._

_It made Margaery a little warm; seeing how they seemed genuinely content about the fact that she would become a member of their family._

_The only one who didn’t express any satisfaction was Sansa; she probably took advantage of the attention being one hundred percent on the happy couple to not bother to look pleased at all. Not that she looked angry, or even sorrowful; she simply looked tired._

_But Margaery couldn’t think too much about any reaction coming from anyone; the clock was ticking, and one longer second of silence would turn the charming sentimental moment into an anxious uncertain one._

_So she just said what she needed to say._

_“Of course I will.”_

_Later that evening, Margaery sat on one of the swings located in the house’s backyard. She wore a bulky coat and a scarf over her dress since the thin, late February snow had been falling for a couple of hours now. Her eyes were focused on her right hand; the delicate diamond ring that sparkled under the moonlight._

_It was gorgeous, just like she’d always expected it to be. The wedding would be marvelous as well, just like she’d always imagined it, if the conversations she’d had earlier with her fiancée, Catelyn, and her father and grandmother - who they had Facetimed to tell the good news - meant anything._

_Always expected. Always imagined._

_Margaery sighed. The high of the proposal and the toast and the well-wishings had passed, the glasses and more glasses of champagne were gone, and she had a moment to herself._

_A moment to be happy for herself and, most importantly, frustrated at herself - for not being as happy as she should be._

_A familiar weight she should be now used to._

_Her gaze was still fixed on the ring when she heard a low breath coming from behind her; and she turned over to see Sansa slowly making her way inside the house as if not to be noticed by the brunette._

_“Hey.” Margaery smiled sheepishly._

_Sansa vacillated, before giving in and stepping into the backyard, sitting on the swing next to Margaery’s._

_“Hey. Congratulations again, I’m very happy for the two of you.”_

_Her complexion didn’t show that though, and Margaery wondered why that was; if it was due to the… fondness she had always suspected Sansa felt for her or if it had to do with the fact that she and Mya Stone had ended things a few weeks before._

_Margaery had never been particularly excited about Sansa’s relationship with the other woman, solely due to her own narcissistic self-centered feelings she had already come to terms with; still, she wanted Sansa to be happy - and she hadn’t been happy when she broke things off with Mya._

_So, about the reason why Sansa didn’t seem cheerful at all - Margaery guessed it was the latter. Whatever captivation she had for the brunette couldn’t be grand enough for her to seem upset about it._

_“Thank you, Sansa.”_

_The redhead bit her lip and asked, cautiously, “Will you be living with us now?”_

_“We haven’t discussed it, but I guess so.”_

_Sansa’s face was unreadable then. Still, Margaery tried to read her, as she did everyone, her eyes wandering around her figure. She'd only gotten prettier as the years went by - her slim tall body and her long auburn hair that contrasted perfectly with her shockingly blue eyes._

_As the moonlight hit her from behind and the soft gleaming snow fell on her hair, Margaery realized that Sansa was the kind of woman she would’ve asked out if she had been single and the redhead had the appropriate age when they had first met._

_Before averting her eyes and shaking her head to herself._

_No._

_One thing was to be physically attracted to Sansa somehow - she doubted anyone who liked women wouldn’t be. A whole other was to have such thoughts about the sister of the man she was now officially engaged to._

_She let out a long sigh as she looked back at Sansa, who was gawking at her with big eyes._

_“I’m going to go inside. It’s getting cold,” Sansa explained as she jumped out of the swing._

_Margaery allowed herself a smirk as she arched her eyebrow. “You being more disturbed by the cold than I am? That’s a first.”_

_Sansa emitted a limited laugh, before making her way inside without another word._

_Margaery’s eyes followed her as she went through the back door._

**September 05th, 2021**

Oldtown was everything Sansa could’ve ever wanted and more.

It was a big city, just like Sansa liked it; it was in fact the second-largest city in Westeros. But Sansa considered it to be even more of a diverse and historical city if compared to King’s Landing; it was the very center of science, technology, arts, and innovation.

It was the dream place for any student. Any student who loved to study, that was.

During the first year of her master’s degree, Sansa had seriously considered not pursuing a Ph.D. right after. It had been so draining, she had decided to take a year off to focus on getting a job at the university where she had been working as an intern, but then she decided that - no.

She wanted to get a full-time job so she could make money and work for a living instead of depending on her parents; but _then_ she decided that - hells, no. She was privileged; she might as well use that privilege to do what made her happy. A Ph.D. would make her the happiest, and more than everything, it was an investment in herself.

And when Professor Luwin came to her, telling her that he was weighing on sending a recommendation letter to the _Citadel_ (the most prestigious university in Westeros and the greatest place in the country in Sansa’s opinion) - recommending _her._ Well. She didn’t have to do much thinking after that.

And yeah, the time during her master’s degree had been overwhelming - but after… everything that had happened at the ending of the year before, Sansa could use any draining consuming exhausting distraction she had.

She had moved from Winterfell in July. Saying goodbye to her family had been intense; she had cried, and so had her mother and her youngest brothers. Her father too, just a little bit. And Arya would never admit it, but at the farewell, her face had been twitching slightly in a way that let Sansa know she had cried once she had been alone. Jon hadn’t cried but had been very sweet, telling her he would miss her and visit whenever he could.

But saying goodbye to Robb had been - the most difficult thing.

After… everything, they eventually came back to speaking terms; but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same at all, so far from it, she couldn’t even see it. Basically, their communication consisted of _good mornings_ and _good nights_ and talking during meals. Ever since she moved to Oldtown, it had been down to essentially interacting when _everyone else_ interacted in the family group chat and liking each other's pictures on Instagram. Sometimes, only sometimes, commenting on the other’s Instagram stories. And that was all.

Still, Sansa had begun crying a little bit more when he had enwrapped her in a very quick but tight hug on her last day in Winterfell. And had silently prayed that being distant from one another could make some good for them.

But anyway, Oldtown was perfect. Her life in Oldtown was perfect; even if her schedule was massive - classes at night, internship (also in the Citadel) in the mornings and afternoons, she still somehow had been managing to enjoy the city the way it deserved to be.

Ferry rides in the Honeywine, Saturdays afternoons at the Thieves Market, picnics at the Battle Isle just outside the Hightower - even if Sansa very much tried to avoid the memories the name Hightower brought her - and nights at the small charming bars on the crisscrossing alleys.

Her life in Oldtown was so agitated, exciting, and fulfilling, in some days she actually succeeded in not thinking about the fact that Oldtown was, by the high-speed railway, _only_ two hours and three minutes away from the Arbor.

**_October 10th, 2020_ **

_Inside the taxi heading to the airport, Margaery wondered if she had slept at all. As she looked up at the rearview mirror, half of her face covered by the largest pair of sunglasses she had, she recognized that no - she hadn’t slept._

_How could she anyway? She had made a_ mistake. _And Margaery didn’t make mistakes._

_She didn’t make mistakes at work. She didn’t make mistakes with her family, or with her friends._

_She hadn’t made any mistake when she had broken up with Robb; she had chosen ever so calculated words so he wouldn’t be more hurt than he had to be. She had picked the right reasons to explain it to her grandmother, so she would accept it as sooner possible._

_The convincing and easier than expected tears when she’d told Catelyn about it, so she wouldn’t think Margaery was a cold-hearted bitch who had no emotions over breaking off an engagement with her son (not that Margaery had unquestionably had to force any tears out - they would've come anyway, like they had when she had been alone after the break-up, and a couple of times after that)._

_Everything had been right._

_Until last night._

_Margaery looked out the window, the autumn of Winterfell passing rapidly through her eyes. She looked out the window as she tried to count the number of things she had ruined the night before._

_The most obvious one being her relationship with Robb; they had split up, but Margaery missed him and had truly hoped and imagined that they could form a friendship someday, even if it took years._

_Safe to say that wouldn’t be happening anymore._

_Her relationship with the Starks; her heart ached as she remembered the Starks, who had been nothing but kind to her all of those years. Her heart throbbed as she presumed whatever they would be thinking of her from now on._

_So much for not wanting to be seen as a cold-hearted bitch._

_Her relationship with Sansa, who she’d always been friends with, even if not particularly close. Who she had always cared for, so much. Much more than she should have, she would now come to think. Her lips trembled as she envisioned the look on Sansa’s face as they stood up from that couch._

_And of course, Sansa’s relationship with Robb. They had always been very close, almost as much as Robb was close to Theon and Jon, but she had prospered on ruining that too._

_She shut her eyes behind the sunglasses. She tried to think of something else, at least until she got to the airport. But all that was on her mind was Sansa._

_And the question of_ why _, why had she done that?_

 _Okay, so she had drunk a few glasses of wine. So? Margaery didn’t_ get _drunk with a few glasses of wine._

 _Okay, she was attracted to Sansa. Still, Margaery didn’t hop on every person she was attracted to. Especially not if said person was related to her ex-boyfriend. Especially not when she was sitting on the couch where she had, oh Gods,_ been _with said ex-boyfriend before._

_Fuck._

_She shouldn’t have let her mind go there, she realized as she clasped her hand against her forehead._

_Going back to what had been disconcerting her ever since a very specific moment hours and hours before._

_Attraction was one thing; she knew she had it towards Sansa. But was it possible that she had any kind of…_

_Feelings? She had been thinking of it, ever since she went up those stairs and found her things on Robb’s bed. She had packed the clothes she had left in his wardrobe; thrown her books in her bag without taking a second look at them, carefully placed the documents inside of it._

_But when she touched her coat - the one she had forgotten that she’d lent Sansa._

_She hadn’t been capable of taking that with her, with the things she was taking from Robb. Irrationally, she hadn’t wanted Sansa to forget about her. She had wanted her to have something good to remember her; rather than Margaery’s face of despair after recognizing what they had done._

_She had evoked what she’d said to Sansa before, how she had never wanted Robb like a woman should want her partner._

_At that moment, with the trench coat in her hands, she’d decided she didn’t want Sansa to think she hadn’t truly wanted her like she hadn’t truly wanted Robb, at least for that night._

_She had evoked what Sansa had told her too, that taking her things would make him get over her more quickly. And again, Margaery had been selfish and narcissist, like she always was, and hadn’t wanted Sansa to get over her. If there was anything to get over._

_Anyway…_

_Perhaps she hadn’t had feelings for Sansa before. Perhaps, previously, it had been indeed just physical attraction._

_But after last night. The way Sansa had looked at her as she opened up about things she had only ever opened up about to her grandmother and her brother. After the way Sansa had held her hand; held her face as they kissed._

_Her little smile against her skin when Margaery had pulled her firmer against her. The way she’d trembled when Margaery had told her she wanted her._

_After all of that-_

_Margaery seriously had her doubts._

**March 19th, 2022**

Sansa was eating her morning cereal when she heard the notification coming from the laptop that rested on the arm of the couch. She hadn’t had to take a look to know it was from Facetime, but her eyes sure widened when she read her brother’s name on the screen.

She couldn’t remember the last time she and Robb had spoken through call; the last time they had seen each other had been on Christmas - Sansa had come back home for the Holidays, and Robb had taken his _girlfriend._ She was a brunette from the Westerlands named Jeyne, and Sansa had been happy for him, for more reasons than one.

Happy because, well, sisters should be happy for their brothers; but she couldn’t deny, at least not to herself, the true motive behind her being so glad for Robb’s relationship - the possibility, the chance, really, that he might be getting over… his ex. Because the sooner he got over her, the sooner things between them could be fixed; and even if she had hurt him, and he hurt her - and he had - she still, deep down, wanted things fixed.

But things were still far from that, which was why she couldn’t have hidden the surprise in her face as she accepted the video request even if she’d tried.

“Hey,” his voice resonated in Sansa's living room. His smile was shy, and she recognized his bedroom walls behind him.

“Hey,” Sansa replied as lightly as she could, praying that her confusion wasn’t stamped on her face.

“I was afraid you might have retreated from your old behavior of waking up early on a Sunday.”

Sansa shook her head as her lips curled in a sheepish smile. “Old habits die hard. But,” she frowned slightly, “Why did you think I would’ve suddenly begun to stay in bed until late?”

Robb shrugged. “I just figured you'd be more tired than usual. I know how hard you’ve been working lately.”

The question of how he knew that was on the tip of her tongue; it was not like they’d have long chats on how Sansa’s life was at the Reach. But she swallowed it; he’d probably heard it from their mother or one of their siblings - the thought of Robb being interested enough to ask them about how she was doing in the South made a strange relief-like kind of feeling burst into her.

“I am,” Sansa nodded. “The classes are wearying and so is being Professor Mawyin’s intern.”

Robb raised his eyebrows. “Mawyin? Isn’t that the author of that book you once tried to force me to read, _The Book of Lost Books?_ You used to say he was a madman.”

“He is,” Sansa chuckled. “He keeps lecturing me about the time he spent in Essos, mapping lands and living with warlocks. He keeps calling the other professors _grey sheep._ He is a genius, though.”

“Sounds like the type of person you’d work well with.”

Sansa gave a small smile, and an uncomfortable silence was settled as they stared at each other through the screen.

Sansa was the one to break it, “But how are you doing?”

He took a while to answer. “I’m doing… really, surprisingly fine. Better than I have been for a long time, in fact.” And then he took a deep breath to complete, “Which is why I called you.”

His tone was so much more solemn than it had already been, Sansa felt a little uneasy. She couldn’t have prepared herself for what came next.

“Sansa, I-,” he closed his eyes for just a moment. “I have been talking. A lot. With Margaery.”

As her heart skipped a beat, she wondered, in a second of madness, if they were getting back together. It sent a wave of what felt like fear through Sansa’s body, as her blood heated; until she remembered Robb was with a new girlfriend.

“I see,” her voice above a whisper.

“At New Years,” he spoke prudently; as if he didn’t want to scare Sansa away. “I got a little messed up. And I called her. It was the first time we spoke in over a year, and I don’t remember any of it.” He chuckled a bit; Sansa didn’t return. “So a few days later I called her again to apologize. And ask if I had said anything weird. And before I knew, we were talking. A lot. As I said.”

He stared at her, almost inquisitive as if waiting for her to react. But Sansa remained as she was and kept quiet; she had nothing to say.

Better yet, she had things to say but preferred to wait until he was finished.

“The thing is,” he understood his cue. “We’ve been talking every day since then. At first, it was about how we were doing, pretty much about our daily lives, and then again before I knew-”, he paused as if trying to find the right words.

“Before I knew it, we were talking about serious stuff. About our break up, and feelings and things we both had gone through afterward. Adjusting our lives, learning how to live without each other. And so much more. Sometimes I don’t understand-, well, you know how Margaery is.”

For some reason she couldn’t possibly understand, Sansa felt a twinge of irritation at his last words.

“She makes even the most awkward situations feel easy, and we started to talk about all of that, and it was indeed _so_ easy. And not painful. Emotional yes, nostalgic and very melancholic, but not painful. And then I came to realize, that ever since I first called her in January… I had missed her. Her presence and her spirit; and that’s all. I hadn’t tried to get back together at the first call, I asked her if I had. And I hadn’t thought about getting back together at all, not even once.”

His gaze wasn’t at the screen anymore. He looked somewhere, eyes unfocused as if he was enthralled by his own words.

“I feel like we’ve been very honest with one another, and it’s been meaningful. I told her about Jeyne, for Christ’s sake. She made me realize I was in love with her,” he exclaimed, and Sansa’s eyebrows drew up. “She was the one who convinced me to tell her. Can you believe such a thing?”

Sansa didn’t know whether she could believe it or not; she didn’t care. She just couldn’t stop herself from shooting at him, “So you guys have been friends now?”

Her tone was straight-up bitter, and Robb seemed surprised.

“You have been talking for over two months while I have been here, hurting whenever I thought about the two of you, thinking nothing would ever be the same between us again, while you two have been making amends? While you act like I don’t exist and only interact with me when you’re essentially obligated to?”

Robb’s eyebrows were up to his hairline as he muttered, “I-, I, I never knew you’d be so mad.”

“ _Oh,_ I’m fucking mad,” she all but shouted at her computer as she sat back on the couch.

How fair was that? How fair was that she hadn’t been given a chance to work things out as well?

That he hadn’t initiated any conversation with _her,_ evenwhen she had apologized. When he had been so harsh to her that day.

And-

She tried to ignore it, but it came to her mind anyway.

Why wasn’t Margaery talking to her too? Things had been left so painful between them. She knew she wasn’t Margaery’s seven-year-long ex-girlfriend, but still, they had been friends and that night had been so confusing and had ended so terribly, and yet, Margaery hadn’t had the consideration to fix things with her like she’d been fixing them with Robb.

“Please understand,” Robb’s voice took her back. “Everything that happened between you and her and me, it was too hard. I hadn’t planned to contact her again, let alone all that came with it. And I tried not to make it a bigger deal than it already was, and if I brought you into the picture, it all would be too much too quick.”

Sansa maintained her posture. She _could_ see his point, but she still remained loyal to her own.

Before losing track of everything when he revealed almost carefully, “Last week we finally spoke about you.”

Even as her heart began racing like it hadn’t raced in over one year, she stilled. “What about me?” Her tone was so far off from her previous one, it was laughable.

“About that night.” He lowered his gaze. “She told me she had started it. That you had been drunk, and that she had started it, and that you had put an end to it.”

She had been honest, somehow, but not exactly. Sansa had drunk, she hadn’t _been_ drunk, though. And even if Margaery had been the one to scoot closer, Sansa very vividly remembered (impossible not to, after reliving that moment countless times) she had been the one to close the distance. To lay her down on the couch, and kiss other parts of her body.

She had most definitely been the one to end it, though.

“She told me some other things as well, but I shouldn’t pass it on to you.”

“Tell me,” Sansa commanded immediately.

Robb shook his head lightly. “It would be preferable if you heard it from her.”

It took her about three seconds to gather what he’d just said.

“Hear it from her?” Sansa asked slowly.

He inhaled, and swallowed. And then nodded.

“Sansa, there’s a reason it took me days to reach you out, after discussing you with her. I have been thinking… and I knew what was the right thing to do. I also knew it wouldn’t be easy to do it.”

Sansa’s eyes sought him.

“I have been, so, so happy in the past months. And I want-, I-”

She could see him shifting on his chair, seemingly striving to gather strength to say what he was going to say next.

“And I want you two to be happy as well,” and then he spoke fairly quickly, “So if you want to try something with Margaery-”

The silent beat that came before he finished his sentence was loaded.

“You should,” he concluded, and Sansa thought she’d seen him shaking a little bit.

Before she averted her eyes from the screen, not looking anywhere in particular.

Was that for real?

Had he indeed said that? _Those_ words?

Back when she was a teenager, she had foolishly dreamed of a moment like that. The older she got, the more she would curse herself for even letting her mind wander like that.

Now, she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to think. It was like her brain and her body had frozen, only her heart hammered soundly, and she worried that Robb could hear it.

“Sansa?”

“Yes,” Sansa’s eyes snapped at him.

“Did you- did you understand what I said?”

“Yes.”

And then they both went quiet, unwieldy as they gawked at each other. 

Sansa wanted to turn the call off. She felt like she needed to, with how unhinged she felt, but there was still something they had to talk about. She didn’t have the patience for any longer dialogue, though, so she just shot straightaway;

“So, do you forgive me?”

Robb blinked. Before answering right at the next second, “Only if you forgive me.”

At his words, she felt herself calming down even if just a bit. They were so distant, yet she felt like it was the first time she truly saw him in over one year and five months. The first time they saw each other.

“I’m sorry, Sansa. For everything,” his pause was substantial. “And about all those years before.”

Again, she was at a loss for words.

“And,” but he wasn’t, “I was thinking of visiting Oldtown with Jeyne in a month or so.” He flexed his jaw. “Do you think you could show us around?”

The meager but genuine smile she gave came along with the tears that covered blue eyes as she nodded. “And I’m so sorry too.”

Sansa forced herself to stay in the call; talking so freely to Robb like that wasn’t an opportunity she would pass. They chatted for another ten minutes; it was still considerably awkward, but a little less than all of their interactions in the past year.

But Sansa had to be honest, the thrill of whatever advance she and Robb had made that morning hadn’t occupied her mind nearly as much as she could’ve predicted. Something else entirely had instead.

What Robb had said about her and Margaery however, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking.

And she had to be a masochist, Sansa would realize later on; because the doubts and concerns that went through her mind at that moment were inexplicable for someone who had wanted the opportunity she had been given for so long.

Robb hadn’t gladly given her _permission;_ he had been hesitating and unsure. So it wasn’t like he was completely on board with Sansa _trying something with Margaery,_ as he had said.

Besides, what was Sansa supposed to do? Book a railway ticket to the Arbor and show up out of nowhere? When she had absolutely no idea if that’s what Margaery wanted?

Sure, Margaery _seemed_ to have enjoyed whatever they had done that night; but that could’ve been purely physical. There was no way for Sansa to be sure that going all the way to see her wouldn’t end up in heartbreak and desolation all over again.

Yeah, she had to be a masochist, Sansa would definitely reflect later on; she had to be a masochist to fall asleep with that thought in mind.

On the next day though, Sansa realized something.

She realized Robb had said his conversations with Margaery had been honest and meaningful; _and_ had stated that he wanted Sansa and Margaery to be happy - _and_ had insinuated that _they_ would be happy if Sansa _tried_ something with the other woman.

If their exchanges had been so sincere and Robb had kind of pointed out that both women would be happy if they _tried…_ then that meant that Margaery had let him think that she would be happy if she were with Sansa.

On Monday, Sansa recalled she had met Margaery nine years before. _Nine years_ of pining over her nearly nonstop. Yeah, she’d dated a boy from high school for a year after she’d met her, but that had been of zero to none help. It had gotten better when she’d dated Mya - but it still hadn’t fixed it. Even four months with a girl from Oldtown, a waitress in her favorite cafe in the Ragpicker's Wynd, hadn’t freed her of her feelings.

On Tuesday, Sansa rejected all of the thoughts she’d been having about going after Margaery. It didn’t matter if Robb had given his downcast half-hearted blessing, it would still be some sort of humiliation for him, and it would still hurt him deep down, and if she thought there was any chance for them to become the siblings they used to be, she couldn’t risk it.

On Wednesday, Sansa wondered if she didn’t deserve the chance to be happy as well. After seven years of watching the object of her affection in her brother’s arms, after almost one year and a half of suffering from the conviction that the only moment she and Margaery would ever have had been the most regretful moment of their lives. She wondered if, after all of that, she didn’t owe it, to herself, some long-awaited happiness.

On Thursday, she pictured being with Margaery, going home with her to a possible Holiday. Imagined the look on her father’s eyes, what Arya and her mom would say, what the rest of their family and Robb’s friends would think. It was enough to have her give up all over again.

On Friday, she remembered Margaery’s smile. Her nails against Sansa’s skin, the taste of her tongue, and the little sounds she’d made when Sansa had descended her kisses - _I want somebody who can take control._ Her smirk when she would tease Sansa, the color of her eyes and her voice that was so provoking even when she didn’t try - if she ever did not try - to be.

On Saturday, Sansa went to the movies and posted a story of the horror film she’d watched. Robb answered saying he had watched it as well. They ended up talking for an hour about the movies they had watched in the past year, and the movies they had watched together before that. 

Robb mentioned the one night when the whole family got together to watch a series of Northern mythology horror movies. Margaery had been there. Robb cited her name as casually and unconcernedly as ever. As if talking about her didn’t affect him at all. As if talking about her to _Sansa_ was the most common thing in the world.

On Sunday, Sansa opened her laptop and bought the train tickets to the Arbor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I say _“even if Sansa very much tried to avoid the memories the name Hightower brought her”_ , it’s because Margaery’s mother is canonically a Hightower from Oldtown, so in my headcanon for this story, Margaery’s full name would be something like Margaery Hightower Tyrell.
> 
> Anyway, pleaseeee tell me what you’re thinking about this story? Reviews are everything <3
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. you were my first time (a new feel)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter ended up to be much longer than what I would’ve expected...
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy it!

Sansa had never thought she would ever have the chance to travel by train underwater. Well, the train was not _in_ the water, of course, but it did travel through the Reach Tunnel, right in the waters of the Redwyne Straits. Which Sansa had been excited about, for a second, until she was actually submersed and realized that she obviously couldn’t _see_ anything from inside the tunnel; she’d felt so silly for thinking she would possibly be able to see the little fish and aquatic flora through her seat’s window.

The ticket had been more expensive than some actual airplane tickets, and Sansa had been relieved when she’d found out that there were annual passes she could purchase in order to lower the price of weekly and monthly- 

No, but what was she thinking?

She was on the bus, heading to the Redwyne Valley vineyard, and she shook her head at herself; she could not be having such thoughts. Thoughts related to ever coming back to the Reach, especially on weekly visits, _no._ For the sake of her, no.

She and Margaery would talk. At least that was what she hoped, as she hadn’t told Margaery she was coming, but Margaery would definitely not refuse to talk to her - she was too polite for that. Sansa was one hundred percent sure they would talk and work things out; she was mature and Margaery was mature and they would be able to resolve whatever they had left unsaid.

Except that Sansa had left _a lot_ unsaid, and she truly hadn’t thought about _how_ she would say all that she needed to say to Margaery… 

Except that she _had_ thought about it, too much, so much more than she should’ve had, considering all the things that should have been on her mind regarding school, and work, and yet she hadn’t reached any conclusion on what had troubled her the most. Would always get too anxious before that point.

 _Oh, Gods._ She gripped her own throat as she looked out the bus window, taking in the golden city she had stepped foot on fifteen minutes before.

It was a gorgeous city, that was for sure, only perhaps a bit too sunny for Sansa’s taste, especially considering it was already four o’clock in the afternoon. The streets were large and the people walked slowly and unconcernedly - well, it was a Saturday, but in Oldtown, everyone was _always_ in such a hurry, Sansa couldn’t help but notice the difference. It was an open, _spacious_ city and she had lost count of how many squares and parks the bus had passed by.

Sansa clung to the backpack on her lap. She’d brought two sets of clothes along with whatever else she would need for the weekend. She had no idea what her conversation with Margaery would end up to be, so she found it only reasonable to make plans of her own; enjoy the nightlife at the Starfish Pier, sleep at one of the many B&Bs located in Ryamsport, and take a tour bus that would drive her around during the whole Sunday before she had to take her train back.

Even if the results of her meeting with Margaery were catastrophic, Sansa was determined to spend that weekend having fun while getting to know one of the most popular cities in the country.

Determined and optimistic did not mean the same.

She wasn’t the only one to hop off the bus at the Redwyne Valley stop; the vineyard was the greatest tourist attraction in the city. She still had to get another bus to get to the vineyard itself - inside the vehicle, Sansa started to wonder if it wouldn’t all have been easier if she had just called Margaery and asked her to meet in a coffee house or something. 

She had always wanted to meet the notorious location that was simply one of the most famous places in the country - _still,_ the possibility of going all that way only to be rejected felt a bit heavy inside her mind.

When they arrived, Sansa stared at the luxurious, large complexion of small buildings, the burgundy grape cluster of the Redwyne sigil imposing, high above the entrance. Among so many tourists, she recognized the reception on her right, the store on her left, the tasting building meters away.

She was just heading towards a huge framed map on one of the walls when she realized that perhaps destiny was, in fact, for once, on her side, as she heard the masculine voice coming from behind her:

“Sansa? Sansa Stark?”

And then she spun around only to find no one other than Loras Tyrell; they had only met twice before, but Sansa would never mistake him - he was the spitting image of Margaery, with his silky brown curls and piercing eyes and a sly smile.

“Hey, Loras,” she greeted him as he came to a stop face to face with her.

“What are you doing here?”

_He knows._

He knew about Sansa and Margaery, she was quick to perceive. She understood it by the way his eyes shone in curiosity and how his smile had widened maliciously as he tried to refrain from it; as if he was facing an internal joke he had a hard time trying not to laugh at.

“I’m looking for Margaery.” Even though it was a Saturday afternoon, Sansa had heard of an event that would happen at the vineyard on that very date, one that had presumably ended not so long before she’d arrived, so she positively believed Margaery would still be at work.

And apparently, she was, as Loras raised his eyebrows and curled his lips into another furtive smile. “Oh? Then I’ll take you to her.”

Sansa followed him all the way to the parking lot - to a line of white golf carts right behind the reception, and watched as he jumped graciously on the driver’s seat and signaled for her to sit next to him.

And just like that, Sansa was in the most spectacular vineyard in the country, guided by the very grandchild of the owner. She had an idea, but she couldn’t for the life of her have guessed how gigantic it was. Sansa watched with fascination as they passed by the numerous restaurants, and departments; the immense fields, and the endless grapevine plantations.

It bordered on overwhelming, thinking about how all of that would be Margaery’s someday. And by _that,_ Sansa didn’t only mean that place - she meant the island as a whole, more than that, even. The wine business made the Arbor what it was; one of the most important commercial centers and prosperous manufacturing cities in the country. _That_ was how much influence Margaery would have in a matter of years.

But as fascinating as everything Sansa set eyes on was, it still didn’t take her long to ask Loras, 

“You are not possibly trying to _find_ her, are you?”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, I know exactly where she is.”

And then it took him approximately five minutes to stop at a specific point of the vineyard. “Here you go.”

Sansa thanked him as she got out of the car, and he winked. “Have a nice time.”

And then he left.

She walked curiously as she examined the lines and lines of grapevines around her. It was all so colorful, and the scent was intoxicating, and before Sansa knew she had taken one of the small, soft grapes in her fingers and brought it towards her lips. It was thicker, and so much sweeter than any grape she’d ever eaten, and Sansa grimaced at the number of seeds suddenly inside her mouth.

The taste lingered when she lifted her eyes and saw her - and Sansa forgot all about where she was or where she wasn’t.

The vines were as tall as she was, and Sansa realized she hadn’t been able to see her before due to all the foliage. Margaery was with a man who clearly worked for her; he gesticulated as he reported something, and she shook her head attentively; the thoughtful, solicitous look on her face, the one Sansa had already seen so many times.

Her hair was smoothly cut, shorter than Sansa had ever seen, brown waves barely hitting her shoulders; a pair of sunglasses on her head. She was wearing a thin, loose, long summer dress, one that reminded Sansa of her own - with the difference that Margaery’s was light blue while Sansa’s was white.

The man nodded politely before making his way towards wherever he was heading, and Margaery checked the phone in her hands only for a moment before being magnetically drawn to her silent spectator; turning her head sideways so she and Sansa could lock eyes for the first time in almost eighteen months.

And time didn’t stop like it was said to do so in the stories. Quite the opposite, actually. Sansa found herself utterly conscious of how long that moment had been; the moment in which those unbelievable eyes took her in, the small frown of Margaery’s eyebrows, and how her lips opened in astonishment.

A shuddering breath made its way out of Sansa when she finally spoke. “Hi.”

And Margaery’s lips curved in a small, lopsided, mercifully warm smile. “Hi.” 

But her eyes were still full of shock when she took a good dozen steps, passing through the breaches between the vines until she stood right in front of Sansa.

“How are you here?”, she asked immediately, surprise all over her voice.

Sansa’s eyes never left the soft and slightly confused face looking up at her, even as she let it out with the firmest voice she could handle, “I’ve been wanting to see you. I want to talk about a few things.”

She knew Margaery knew what _things_ needed to be talked about, and she had planned on being more straightforward; set the cards on the table right away, which was something she’d figured out to be preferable. But one year, five months and twenty-five days had gone by, and the last thing she wanted was for it to be too much too soon, so she chose the safest words she could think of.

And she was relieved when Margaery nodded on the spot. “Alright.” And then a hint of amusement played on her expression. “But _how_ are you here?”

“Oh,” Sansa exclaimed. “I took the train, I just got here an hour ago. Loras, we stumbled across each other, and he brought me to you.”

Margaery lowered her gaze as she nodded, “I see.”

A silent beat went by as they watched one another, before Margaery revealed quietly, “It’s very good to see you,” staring directly at blue eyes.

Sansa smiled cautiously as she played with one of the straps of her bag. “That’s comforting to know.”

“You didn’t think it would be good?”, Margaery crooked her head as a whole other smile played on her lips.

Sansa shrugged. “We didn’t leave things at their best.”

A small sigh came out of Margaery. “Granted, we didn’t. But tell me about you,” she took a step forward. “I know you’ve been living in Oldtown for…”

“Almost nine months,” Sansa finished it, wondering what had been Margaery’s source of information; had it been Robb? Sansa had subtly soft blocked her in all social media after _that_ night, so she must’ve heard it from someone.

“Working towards your doctorate, I suppose?” At Sansa’s nod, Margaery grinned. “You made the right choice.”

Sansa chuckled, “Are you just saying this because it is what you advised me to do?”

“ _No,_ ” Margaery retorted. “It’s because it was the right path to pursue. Now,” she smirked, “It’s not my fault if my advice usually does lead to people seeking the correct options in their lives.”

Sansa’s gaze moved from Margaery’s eyes to the dimple on her cheek. “Suppose I can’t argue with that.”

“When are you going back to Oldtown?”, Margaery inquired.

“My train leaves tomorrow night.”

“Okay. And,” Margaery bit her lip. “Do you have any other commitments here on the island?”

_No, Margaery. I indeed came all this way solely to see you, as I know you are guessing._

But at the brunette, Sansa just shook her head. And, for a wild second, she thought she’d seen a gleam in Margaery’s eyes before she averted them.

Before she proceeded to point at somewhere behind Sansa. “Do you see that house?”

Sansa spun her head around to spot the small, charming store she and Loras had passed by on their way.

“It sells some of our best rosé wines. Wait for me there while I finish what I still have to take care of?”, she smiled almost apologetic. “You can drink all you want for free.”

Sansa doubted she should be having anything to drink when her stomach was still nervously trembling every once in a while and her breathing was threatening to labor in relief from how much lighter her exchange with Margaery had been compared to what she had been expecting - but then Sansa realized that perhaps that was the exact reason why she should indeed force down some alcohol in her system.

She narrowed her eyes at Margaery. “From what I know of the owner of this place I’m sure she will not be reacting well to that.”

“Leave the aftermath to me, I have experience at winning her over,” Margaery winked.

Sansa had begun to make her way towards the store when Margaery informed, “Since today is a Saturday, by the time I’m done the vineyard will be closing. So what do you think about going out tonight?”

Sansa nodded instantly, and she was still letting those words sink in when she got to the front door.

-

As expected, the wine was among the best Sansa had ever tried, and she welcomed the way it relaxed her just the tiniest bit. She had drunk one single glass, and forewent drinking any further - she refused to be even imperceptibly inebriated when talking to Margaery.

Margaery, who had come back to her over an hour later, when the sky was already turning into its darker shades.

They had walked to the parking lot and their path had not been exactly silent, as they made small talk about Sansa’s new apartment and Sansa shared her impressions on the city from what she had been able to absorb.

The tension had been so, so palpable, and it hadn’t gotten any better when they got into the Uber Margaery had ordered.

She explained to Sansa that she would leave her car at the vineyard since she wouldn’t be allowed to drive back after their dinner due to the wine she would have. Sansa had attempted to tease,

“And you can’t spend one evening without drinking?”

And Margaery had answered it with a wink, “I can. But something tells me that on this specific evening, I’ll need it.”

And Sansa hadn’t said anything else.

Instead, she had tried to turn her attention to the pink and orange tones of the sunset hour, how the streets were emptier than they had been before and how she could see the people in the bars, restaurants, and clubs setting tables on the street of their establishments and cleaning them up for the Saturday night.

The Arbor was widely known for its nightlife; Sansa wondered just how agitated _her_ night in the city would be.

Their attempts to small talk to fill the heavy silence around them lasted until they got to the restaurant, or was it a pub - named the _Mermaid’s Palace._

Sansa could hear the live music coming from inside and for a moment she was afraid it wouldn’t be too simple to have the conversation she was expecting to, but Margaery guaranteed, “We’ll seat upstairs, it’s quieter,” and then she added, “We’re so lucky for having arrived early; you have no idea the size of the line outside once it’s past eight o’clock,” she informed as they went past the four men band playing 70’s music, and Sansa had to cover her ears when passing by the amplifier.

Indeed, upstairs was considerably undisturbed if compared to the ground floor, and since they sat on the furthest table, the music sounded comfortable in Sansa’s ears, almost like a soundtrack.

“Are you hungry?” Margaery asked as they sat.

“Starving,” Sansa answered, surprising even herself, even though she shouldn’t; she hadn’t eaten a lot that day, too nervous to risk bothering her stomach. But the smell of the food and the Saturday night at the bar atmosphere calmed her down and she reached for the menu eagerly.

Their specialty was surf and turf, _just like my mother’s restaurant,_ Sansa thought, but chose not to mention any family member so soon.

“I’ll have the grilled squid and the pork rack with the carrot puree,” Sansa announced when the waiter came to them. “And beer. Any kind of beer.”

“And I’ll have the grilled scallop with the chicken velouté and the vegetables,” Margaery shot Sansa a teasing smile. “And wine. Any kind of wine.”

She had meant to mock Sansa by imitating her; however, she was still a sommelier, so she had no option other than to correct herself nimbly right after, “Any _white_ wine, I mean,” and Sansa giggled.

“ _Any_ wine… I’m looking forward to seeing how you’ll take it if he arrives at this table with a Dornish one,” Sansa remarked once the waiter left, and Margaery shook her head promptly.

“I don’t think any establishment in the country would risk ruining its reputation by serving the Dornish piss water, but regardless,” Margaery retorted at Sansa’s laughter, “Dornish wine is unofficially forbidden in this island. Here you would be less condemned by possessing cocaine than a bottle of anything with the little red sun stamped on it.”

And Sansa laughed, again, and so did Margaery. For two seconds, that is, until their smiles faltered and they found themselves mute, just like they had been before. And Sansa felt uneasy while having a hard time deflecting her eyes from the striking face ahead of her, a face that scanned her so intensively, big eyes inquiring her.

Until she voiced her inquiry, “So. What was it that you wanted to talk about?”

Sansa gulped. Because she had been reflecting about that moment for a week now, but she strongly suspected that evening to be the one where she would be sharing things with Margaery, sharing moments and feelings that had been consuming and overwhelming Sansa for _so_ much longer than a week.

But now was the time, and it had her clasping her hands over the table in order to control - hide - the tremor in her fingers.

“Margaery, what happened between us the last time we saw each other,” all but erupted from her lips, “It truly shook my relationship with Robb. For obvious reasons.”

She was so immeasurably proud of how solidly her words had come out.

“I can only imagine it,” Margaery reacted sincerely, and sighed, “Sansa, I can’t even begin to tell you how excruciating it was to know that I could’ve possibly ruined the proximity you two had; it was what I regretted the most. How guilty I felt for having started that-”

“You know, that really bothers me,” Sansa blurted out, surprising Margaery and even herself.

Because she unequivocally disliked how Margaery seemed to try and pull all the blame for what had happened to herself. As if she had tricked and worked Sansa into being a part of something she didn’t want to be and Sansa couldn’t understand exactly why, but that bothered her.

“It feels like you are patronizing me, and trying to be the superior part that admits a fault that was not entirely theirs.” Putting into words, perhaps Sansa did understand why.

Margaery remained quiet, taking her in with the same inquisitive semblance, and Sansa continued, “That night you kept apologizing, and I know you were nervous and confused, but to keep acting like this now, over one year later, and telling Robb that you were the one to blame-”

“How do you know what I told Robb?”, Margaery interrupted, and Sansa felt oddly caught.

“He told me when he called me last week,” she replied, knowing that the eyes gazing Margaery would now be hard, “To let me know about how you guys have… reconciled.”

A glint of understanding covered Margaery’s eyes, at the exact moment the waiter arrived with their drinks, pouring a glass of the foreseen Redwyne for Margaery.

“About your complaint,” Margaery began as soon as they thanked and dismissed the waiter. “The reason why I blame myself for what happened - I believe it’s more of a coping mechanism than a certainty,” she explained.

“I came into your home that night, and one hour later I was ruining three different relationships. But unlike whatever bond you two had with _me_ , you and Robb are much more than exes or mere friends, you are brother and sister and I-”, she avoided Sansa’s eyes, her attention on the glass in front of her, her fingers touching its base.

“I knew the consequences would be a lot more painful for you to deal with. I thought that perhaps if I took responsibility, it would make things easier for you.”

In one way or the other, that proved Sansa’s point; that Margaery was trying to come out as the bigger person, even if her intentions were honorable - but as she watched Margaery take a long sip of her wine, Sansa’s next words had nothing to do with that.

“You said we were mere friends,” she recalled Margaery’s words. “Don’t get me wrong, I know we were not the most confidential ones, but we always cared so much about one another. And I agree this might sound petty but,” she did, but she still couldn’t shake it,

“I was hurt to know you had reconnected with Robb and not bothered to reach me out as well. Now in particular, when you’ve just admitted to knowing how sensible you were of the fact that I was the most fragile end of the situation.”

“I was planning on disappearing from your lives,” Margaery returned in a tone that bordered on protesting. “After what happened, and I was not the one to seek him out. When he came to me I was unsure whether I should respond or not, but honestly, what could I have done?”, her eyes were imploring.

“I spent a quarter of my life with him, and the way things had been left on broke me, and I couldn’t pass on an opportunity to try and repair that-”

“I never said you should’ve had!”, Sansa interrupted, but Margaery didn’t let on,

“I know you didn’t, but he and I were talking and it was so unexpected and so, so refreshing, I-”, she appeared to be choosing her words carefully. “I couldn’t risk messing it up.”

There was nothing else she needed to say; Sansa understood it all at once. Margaery had put the prospect of being on good terms with Robb above the idea of clearing things out with Sansa, and that was more than comprehensible, it was coherent and something Sansa herself had been ready to do once upon a time, _I won’t be seeing her ever again. I won’t look or even talk to her._

Because that was what things were doomed to be; Robb had been there first. He was Sansa’s brother and had been there first, for Margaery - therefore, _they_ would always put him first, before the other, even if it meant, for Sansa, making a sacrifice.

But the thing was - putting him first did not mean they had to be away from each other anymore, at least not according to what he had told Sansa, and she didn’t quite perceive how to tell that to Margaery yet.

People began to occupy the tables around them, and the agitated music didn’t match Sansa’s mood.

“I understand,” Sansa conceded. “But didn’t he-, uh, when you two talked about me… didn’t he somehow made it sound like… like if you were to talk to me, he wouldn’t be upset?”

“What?”, Margaery's expression didn’t change, not even when the waiter appeared at their table for what it felt like the twelfth time, now bringing them their meals.

And even if the hunger Sansa had felt once they entered the pub had abruptly waived off, she still noticed the scent that came from their disappointingly small portions.

It was good, yes, she acknowledged at her first bite. She used the momentary quietness to take a swig of her beer, being glad that she’d swallowed it all when she heard Margaery’s,

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. By not making an effort to fix things with you as well, and by leaving your house the way I did.”

Sansa shook her head, “I never resented you for that. And I’m sorry, too, for having put an end to what we were doing.”

She had _not_ meant it the way it had sounded. 

She hadn’t, and she was not able to stop the blush that crept up her cheeks, especially not when Margaery’s eyes shone and she smiled as if she was not believing what Sansa had said.

“I mean, I’m sorry if you felt rejected, by me, or humiliated, when I stopped… _being_ with you.” 

She was so lame. She was so irreparably lame she could taste it.

“Darling, I can assure you,” Margaery said, and the way she did it nearly scared Sansa because she looked at her with a gaze so _heated_ , it reminded her of the way she looked at her that night-

“I have _never_ felt rejected, or unwanted when it came to you.”

Okay, what did that mean?

Sansa didn’t know precisely, all she knew was that all of the sudden she felt hot, and kind of shy, and she thought perhaps Margaery felt the same because, after five seconds of observing Sansa so intensely, the brunette hurriedly dropped her gaze to her food - which was unlike Margaery -, and Sansa followed her.

The food no longer tasted like anything in her mouth.

It wasn’t long before she heard Margaery’s steady voice.

“Sansa, what are you doing here?”, and Sansa whipped her head up to meet expectant eyes. “If you just wanted to talk, there were about a dozen other ways you could have reached me. There was no need to come all this way.”

Sansa took a deep breath because she knew that was her cue. And her nerves were rattling because she knew that she would answer Margaery’s question now, and even if she hadn’t had the exact words in mind, she knew what she was doing there and what she truly wanted - and most importantly, she knew that from the moment Margaery knew about it as well nothing would ever be the same, for better or for worse.

“I indeed came here just to talk to you,” even if, very deep down, she hoped for more than talking, she knew better and she was not optimistic - hadn’t wrapped her mind around anything other than _confessing_ , “But to also, uh, let you know something. And I couldn’t do it without looking you in the eye.”

Margaery was still as attentive as before, but Sansa thought she’d seen her breathing quickening.

And Sansa decided to follow the one path she had settled on and hadn’t been able to follow before, and the words left her lips in a whisper and her heartbeat was in her throat,

“I have feelings for you, Margaery,” and Gods, she had never thought she would be saying that to her, and the back of her eyes stung. “I have had them for so long-”

Her voice broke, her hold on the edge of their table almost painful, and Margaery swallowed and blinked, and Sansa inhaled to keep going,

“But I never… I was always certain and convinced that, well, that I could never act on those feelings, because,” she tittered, miserably, “Well, because, how could I?”

_We could never._

“But it was always there. How I felt about you. Whenever it wavered, it would always come back,” she thought about Mya, and her boyfriend from high school and the waitress from Oldtown, weeks and months, even years where it felt like she had gotten over her, only for her to find out that no - she hadn’t. And it would all be the same again.

“And at the beginning it bothered me, seeing you with Robb, and it became exhausting until it became numb. And that’s how it remained, for a while.”

“Until that night,” Margaery spoke, startling Sansa, and the way she said it was so… sympathetic, understanding, and Sansa didn’t know what to deduce from that.

“Yes,” Sansa assented, and that’s when her eyes watered. No tears fell, and none would come to fall that day, but she still got emotional, remembering all the little anguished moments she’d been through, all these years, countless moments, especially after Margaery had moved in with them; but also because she was _here,_ right now, and it held a sense of prospect, good prospect.

Even if that prospect made it easier for her to get her heart broken; well, it wouldn’t be the first time.

“Has it always been like that?”, Margaery asked, and at Sansa’s nod, “But what about your ex-girlfriend?”, as if she had heard Sansa’s thoughts from seconds before.

“I loved her,” and Sansa could be massively mistaken, but for a second it seemed like Margaery’s jaw had twitched. “But after we broke up… it was you all over again.”

Margaery pressed her lips together, sitting back against her chair, looking at nowhere in specific, seemingly stuck in her thoughts and Sansa took the opportunity to keep talking; because she just wanted to get it all out already.

“I might… profoundly regret, what I’m about to say, but,” but she trusted Margaery - Margaery who had always been so kind, who would never humiliate her, or purposefully hurt her, “But if I were afraid of regretting anything, I wouldn’t be here today.”

Margaery waited, patiently, eyes back on Sansa.

“But you left me so consummately confused that night,” she could already hear the plea in her voice. “At first I didn’t stop to think about it, I was more concerned about a whole other factor,” _Robb_ , “But then when I started to recollect everything that had happened,” the coat in her bed, and how Margaery had unbosomed herself to Sansa, and-

“I couldn’t help but feel- hesitatingly, I might add,” she stressed. “I felt like, uh, there could be more than there was,” she struggled with her words, and prayed for Margaery to understand.

Prayed for her to remember the little things that had happened between them, besides the kiss and everything that followed it. Their exchanged looks and the way she had held her hand. The encouragement, the reveal, and the comfort.

“And then it all just blew when I talked to Robb last week. About you, and he told me, well,” Gods, it was so hard to put into words what she had interpreted from that conversation, so she just settled on reproducing his exact speech. “He quite literally said that he wished for us to be happy. And by us I mean you and me,” she added.

“And he insinuated, somehow,” she exclaimed loudly, and something that resembled amusement crossed Margaery’s eyes. “That we would be, if we,” she paused. For a moment.

“ _Tried._ ”

So everything was out. There was nothing left for Sansa to do, other than wait for Margaery’s response.

Margaery, who appeared to have stopped in time, eyes still glued at the redhead, pensive.

It drove from Sansa, “So you know what I want,” _you know what would make me happy._

 _What do you want?_ Sansa desperately wanted to ask, but couldn’t bring herself to.

She was on the edge of expecting the worst when Margaery’s hands covered hers and, oh, they were warm and delicate and soft and Sansa gasped.

Margaery brushed her thumbs over Sansa’s knuckles, smiling a little.

“Sansa, you were always so sweet, and so funny. From the beginning, you were always my favorite, of all of Robb’s family members.”

And Sansa smiled a bit at that because - she suspected so, better yet, she’d always known that; even if Margaery had managed to win over her parents and all of her other siblings, none of them got along with her as well as Sansa did, but thinking about it would always be as thrilling as it was detrimental.

Used to be, she hoped.

“And as the years went by,” she proceeded, “You would only become more brilliant, and more impressive. I remember back when you first got into university, how you talked about your course, your classes, and your goals, and it was all so awe-inspiring.”

She was saying all of that, so earnestly, all of those beautiful, incredible words while still holding her hands, causing this warmth to spread around Sansa.

“And,” she squeezed Sansa’s hands, before finally withdrawing her touch. Her eyes left Sansa’s face and darted around the area surrounding them. “You know the truth about my feelings for Robb. But I never, ever, cheated on him, it never even crossed my mind,” she emphasized, and Sansa widened her eyes a bit at where the conversation was going.

“But I did feel attraction for other people,” her face giving away an air of remorse. “And when, exactly, I don’t know, maybe when I graduated and moved to Winterfell, spending more and more days in Robb’s house… but it came to a moment where you became one of those people.”

If it weren’t for the little tightness around her heart, the one she felt for her brother, her excitement would’ve been unmatched; until then, she had no idea whether Margaery had always been attracted to her or if it had been just a one-time thing.

“Still, I don’t-,” Margaery vacillated, “It’s still hard to understand, why that happened. Because I knew what I was doing, Sansa, when I asked you about Mya, about women. When I told you exactly what I wanted,” she searched Sansa’s gaze, “Up until now I had no idea of the whole extent of your feelings, but your attraction was not unknown to me.”

Sansa’s forehead crinkled and she felt herself flushing. Damn it, she knew that last information would be hunting her in the future, would have her rethinking and recalling moments she’d spent with Margaery; even if her knowing it shouldn’t be surprising - she was aware of how bright and clever Margaery was, but Sansa had prided herself on her ability to keep her feelings unapparent.

“So yes,” Margaery resumed, “I knew it would be a mistake to fulfill what our attraction towards one another entailed, but I knew what I was doing at that moment, even if I wasn't thinking about the outcomes.”

“And I always think about the outcomes,” she looked troubled, “And the fact that when it came to you, I didn’t, it alarmed me. And,” she rubbed her forehead on her palm, “It’s hard to explain.”

But Gods, Sansa was curious.

“But a few things happened and these things made me think. More than anything, the manner you treated me, it was so thoughtful. Listening to me, and not judging me, and-”

Margaery dipped her gaze and bit her lip. There were things in her mind, things she didn’t know how to describe or to share just yet, and Sansa understood her because it had been the same with her.

“You were so considerate, but you were also so… _good._ ”

The way she said that sent a jolt through Sansa’s body.

“And basically… I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since then.”

Sansa’s heart stuttered in her chest as she held her breath, because - because that could mean so much, and to hells with all the precautions she’d had all of her life, with how she had never let herself dream or have any faith or optimism because it was all so far off from what she could ever achieve with Margaery.

It felt like she’d been waiting all her life to hear those words.

Which was why she hazarded, “Robb mentioned you told him some things, about me, things I’d rather hear from you. What were they?”

Margaery’s lips were curved into the prettiest smile, and her eyes were devoting, and expectation controlled each of Sansa’s nerves because she thought she knew what Margaery was going to say and for the Old Gods and the New, she yearned to be right.

“I have feelings for you too, Sansa. I haven’t had them for as long as you have, but still, for quite a while now,” the words left Margaery’s mouth and Sansa’s body had to make her take the biggest breath she could otherwise she would-

She had been alone at that. She had been alone, at loving Margaery. She had been alone for such a long time, but she wasn’t alone anymore. Margaery was there too, and she had been wanting Sansa for over a year now.

A year of pondering, and a year of wondering. A year of feeling ashamed and of being confused, a year of feeling regretful and, whether or not she admitted it to herself, hopeful, hopeful that it could’ve been more to what had happened that night than what it seemed.

That the words Margaery had whispered in her ear meant more; that the way she’d looked at her, and held her hand and held her close, that it hadn’t all been the result of lust, and desire.

That perhaps Sansa had somehow, inexplicably how, made her way into Margaery’s heart like Margaery had made it into hers, even if it only for a fraction.

The worst year of her life, really, but if that was what it took for her to be there, at that moment, hearing those words, then perhaps it was worth it.

And the way Margaery looked at her, especially when she queried, weakly, “Really?”

The giggle that left Margaery’s throat, along with the way her eyes sparkled, was everything, and- Gods, damn it.

“Can I get you anything else?”, the waiter materialized at their table again.

Their meals were almost finished, and Sansa had drunk half of the beer; Margaery’s glass was empty. She denied when Margaery threw her a questioning glance.

“No, thank you,” and the waiter was gone at last.

Their smiles at one another were almost timid then, and Sansa cleared her throat. “So, what now?”

And just like that, Margaery’s lips curled into a much more intriguing shape. “Now we go.”

“Where?”

“To my place.”

-

Sansa was in the most unfamiliar high during their ride to Margaery’s apartment, feeling the perfect and most delightful balance point between being at ease and being in ecstasy.

She was at ease because she had been feeling so apprehensive, for days, and that whole dinner with Margaery had caused its effects on her; until it had all vanished in a second when she heard those words.

_I have feelings for you, too._

She was at ease because the little agony she’d felt for years, the one she had grown used to, was gone for the first time in forever. And she was in ecstasy because… well.

Because she was going to Margaery’s place, at night, only the two of them, she supposed, and that held so many possibilities, simply thinking about them made her giddy.

She was also in ecstasy because she nearly couldn’t deem to accept that she had gone all that way to meet Margaery and that it had actually led to positive results - she wasn’t used to that.

And she was in bliss because, somewhere along the way to Margaery’s apartment, the brunette had shot her the most affectionate smiles with two big doting eyes and Sansa had struggled to keep herself from grinning silly allthe time inside their taxi.

She was happy, even if they still had so much to talk about - and they had, like Margaery was quick to allege as soon as they got to her home - an apartment that was not big, yet luxurious all the same, its layout consisting of a muted pastel color decor.

“We still have a lot to talk about,” she declared once they sat on the large, pale grey couch in the living room.

“We do,” Sansa agreed, staring at the black television. It was attached to the wall between two large sets of shelves; in one of them, Sansa could see what she figured to be countless, fancy, neatly displayed traveling souvenirs, while the other had to be the most charming and different liquor cabinet Sansa had ever seen.

“Tell me exactly what he said to you.”

“But I have,” Sansa turned her body on the sofa so she could face her. “His literal words.”

Margaery bit her lip, thoughtfully. “I shouldn’t be surprised, really. Your brother, he’s… he has a tremendously generous heart.”

Sansa nodded, the stain of melancholy unrolling itself through her chest.

“Which is why, before we proceed to engage ourselves into… anything, we’ll need assurance from one another,” Margaery proclaimed, moving her body to face Sansa as well, crossing her legs over the couch.

Sansa reckoned what Margaery meant, but waited for her all the same.

“He’s given us this _permission_ because he’s compassionate. That’s all. He is not fine with the probability of a… development between us,” and it tinged, how much Sansa agreed with Margaery’s words.

“And it’s not just him,” she progressed. “People will talk. And people will judge. And there’s your family,” for a short second, Margaery’s voice practically dithered, and Sansa understood that was what she was afraid of, the most. “How did your mother react when you told her about us?”

Sansa’s eyebrows were up to her hairline. “How do you know I told her?”

Margaery shot her a fond smile. “We had promised to keep in touch after Robb and I split up. And we managed to, for a while. After what happened between us, though, I stopped calling her because it just felt like a clueless thing to do, and she would no longer contact me, even though she had frequently used to. The conclusion just came naturally.”

“Yeah,” Sansa gave a self-deprecating smile. “A couple of days after what had happened, Robb would leave the room whenever I entered it,” another tinge, an aching one now, made its presence inside of Sansa as she recalled how agonizing those first days and weeks had been. “Needless to say she noticed it. She gave me an ultimatum, and I just couldn’t lie to her.”

Tormented eyes searched hers, both solicitous and inquisitive. “I told her everything from the beginning, and she was very much empathetic, and supportive. She didn’t condemn me even the slightest.”

_Can’t say the same about you, though._

“I told Arya, too,” she added, and Margaery didn’t seem surprised.

“And do they both despise me?”

Sansa shook her head, “No. Arya, she was shocked, but she wasn’t critical of either of us. And my mother, well, she was upset, because of the drift between me and Robb, and she held you accountable for it,” and quickly comforted her, “But I did emphasize, more than once, how guilty, and disturbed you had transpired to be, and I think it came to a point where I was able to see a bit of sensitivity in her.”

Margaery grinned, “You are saying you fought to defend my honor?”

Sansa chuckled and tilted her head. “What I’m trying to input is that they might be more considerate than you foresee.”

Margaery wore her serious countenance. “I love your family. And I don't want them to loathe me, but I’m not intending on letting this likelihood stop me from persuading what would make me happy.”

_Happy._

Being with Sansa would make her happy.

It felt unreal.

“You know what I want from you,” Margaery replicated what Sansa had said before. “I know what we want from each other, what our mutual feelings imply.”

Being together.

Being girlfriends, sleeping together, going on dates.

It made Sansa delirious, and she felt like the little girl she once had been.

‘“But I know how attached you are to your family, Sansa, and Gods, I don’t want to destroy that-”, she faltered.

_Either._

She didn’t want to destroy that either, that was what she was thinking.

“Before anything, I need you to be determined that you are willing to deal with what will come. Knowing that Robb might not be opposed, and that he understands us, but that he will never fully _accept_ us. Knowing that we both will have to make our way to _tell_ him about it. And so much more else.”

Sansa reached for her, clasping one of her hands with her own. “It won’t be easy. Being with you, the outcomes won’t be easy. It will be difficult. But, Margaery, before? Before, the chance of it, it wasn’t just difficult, it was…” blues eyes danced around the living room, chasing words that would describe it.

“Beyond belief. Implausible. Far-fetched, a fantasy out of my wildest dreams,” she pressed.

Margaery giggled, and, Gods, Sansa wanted to kiss her.

“I’m attached to my family because I love them more than anything in the world, and they love me the same. It won’t be right away, but they will accept me. Us. I have no doubts regarding that,” and she truly didn’t.

Jon was likely up to date, from Robb, and he hadn’t changed his behavior with Sansa. Bran and Rickon adored Margaery, missed her deeply, even, and they were so unprejudiced and sweet, Sansa couldn’t fathom the idea of them not hearing her out, of lasting disapproval from them. The same went for her father.

Being with Margaery wouldn’t be painless, or effortless. But Sansa was _s_ _o_ ready to give it a shot.

“What about you?”, she needed to be sure, too. “I know your grandmother wasn’t particularly cheerful over the break-up, I can only assume what she will have to say about an involvement with me.”

Margaery was a prominent figure anyway, heir of a major business, most hunted member of one of the most distinguished families in the country. Different and even wider side effects would extend themselves to her, too.

“I have become more and more successful at setting boundaries regarding what she does or doesn’t have a say in my personal life. You don’t have to worry about her, or anything else for that matter. Not when it comes to me.”

Sansa rested her free hand on Margaery’s thigh. “I hope I have made it clear that the same goes for me. I have absolutely no reservations over what I want.”

The grin that gradually took over Margaery’s face was arresting, irresistible, and full of joy, and Sansa mirrored it in the blink of an eye.

“Now that we’ve kicked these incertitudes out of the way.”

Blue eyes were shut the moment Sansa felt Margaery’s hand cupping her cheek and tugging her closer, her heart fluttering.

They moved towards one another ever so slowly, and when their lips touched, so calmly, it reminded Sansa of their very first kiss, so long ago. Back then, they had moved inch by inch, and they had been cautious, and Sansa had come to consider it was probably due to their uncertainty regarding what the other really wanted. It was due to the fact that _that_ night, they had doubtlessly not planned for anything to have happened.

Now they were slow too, but Sansa knew now that it was because they knew they had time. There was no rush; they were conscious and aware that once it was done, there would be no regrets. There would be no moments of recognition or realization of doing any sinful deeds.

There was nothing to be doubtful of now.

Sansa’s mind was as aware of the taste of Margaery’s lips now, as they touched. Of how the tip of Margaery’s tongue touched Sansa’s bottom lip quickly as she captured it, before retracting. Of Margaery’s fingertips caressing Sansa’s jaw as if it was the most delicate thing, and her other hand, recently freed from Sansa’s grip, set on the redhead’s lower back, a thumb stroking her through the fabric of her dress.

Sansa’s right arm was around Margaery’s waist as they remained seated, and her left hand came up from resting on her lap to seize Margaery’s side.

Sansa’s tongue darted out to require passage between Margaery’s lips but was refused when Margaery pushed her away gently.

“I’m sorry,” Margaery’s voice was husky, and Sansa shook her head slightly as she opened her eyes.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, it’s just-” Margaery smiled, both hands on Sansa’s collarbones. “I left really early today and I have been under the sun for most of the day. I don’t feel very comfortable, being so close to you.”

Sansa blinked, not sure she understood what she meant, but nevertheless feeling the unmistakable pinch of disappointment at Margaery stopping what they were doing.

“I would just like to take a shower first,” Margaery explained in a low tone.

“Oh.” Sansa almost let out a breath in relief, even if it meant having to wait longer to release the pressure that had been building between the two of them for what it felt like hours now.

For years now, if Sansa thoroughly thought about it.

Before bracing herself when she acknowledged the wicked smirk on Margaery’s face, all while fingertips drew circles on the skin exposed by Sansa’s cleavage.

“Would you like to join me?”

Sansa couldn’t have surpassed her grin if she’d tried, the relief that had taken over her being replaced by a renewed excitement.

She tightened the hold she had on Margaery’s side, biting her lip as her eyes fell from Margaery’s lips to her neckline, a little deeper than Sansa’s, and the curve of her waist.

“I think you can take me up on that,” she whispered, and Margaery laughed preciously before meeting her lips again in a quick peck.

Before probing her eyes. “Are you sure? It’s okay if you think it’s too soon-” and Sansa’s indignant face had its intended effect, she came to note when Margaery giggled and stopped herself from saying any further.

And then getting on her feet, pulling Sansa along by her hand. Sansa could feel her heartbeat in her ears as she followed Margaery from the living room, through a well-spaced corridor, and into what she believed to be Margaery’s room.

Her big room, with a queen-size bed covered by creamed color sheets. Sansa looked around to see a large mirror above a vanity table, a desk where Margaery’s work was as neatly organized as Sansa’s was back home, long curtains that covered what had to be a wide window.

Hung on one of the walls, there was a black and white painting of a woman’s profile, a woman Sansa recognized as a 1950’s actress whose name she’d forgotten, and above her bed, there was a magnificent photograph of a beautiful city at nighttime. Sansa also spotted two doors, and she supposed one led to a closet and the other to the bathroom, but by then she was no longer paying attention.

Not when she realized Margaery had let go of her hand and had proceeded to unzip her dress while staring at Sansa with greedy eyes.

The dress fell at her feet in one second, and Sansa fought not to lick her lips as she took in Margaery’s unblemished skin and-

Of course, she wasn’t wearing a bra. She wasn’t, and eyes trailed around breasts that were about the same size as Sansa’s, nipples that were already hard and a little darker than her own. And, for the love-

Sansa felt her eyes widening at the sight of a silver, very small metallic ring around Margaery’s left nipple. Because, for the life of her, Sansa would _not_ have guessed Margaery had a pierced nipple, and the revelation just made a brand new thrill of anticipation work its way through her body.

She also caught the small, sketchy black and white rose tattoo on Margaery’s hip bone, the one she had already gotten a glimpse of, in the times she’d seen Margaery in a bikini.

But it was so different now, to see so much of Margaery’s body and knowing what would happen in only a little while. That the only one getting to see that was _her,_ that it was just a matter of minutes before she got to feel those curves and that skin against her body; it just made it so incredibly, unbelievably different.

Such as watching Margaery get rid of the white panties she wore, and Sansa swallowed at the view she had - of the trimmed brown curls between her thighs, all of what Sansa had positively never seen before.

“I didn’t know you had a…”, Sansa pointed at her chest.

Margaery’s eyes didn’t leave Sansa’s as her smirk grew broader. “Oh, this?”

Sansa watched with fascination as Margaery brushed her fingertips over her nipple, pulling the ring between the index and middle one.

“I got it pierced a couple of months ago. Do you like it?”

_A couple of months ago._

On the back of her mind, Sansa wondered if anyone else had seen it; had touched it. She desperately hoped to be the first one to it.

She chuckled as she answered, “Very much so.”

And Margaery’s lips curled into an almost dangerous smile. “It’s not your intention to get this gorgeous dress soaked, is it?”

And Sansa understood the message instantly, repeating Margaery’s movements from before and sliding her zipper down, her heartbeat increasing at the way Margaery took in Sansa’s half-naked presence almost hungrily.

Unlike Margaery, Sansa was wearing a bra, and when she commenced getting it opened, the brunette closed the distance between them and did it herself. The proximity of Margaery’s naked body alone was enough to make Sansa shiver, but the feeling of her fingers in contact with her bare back as she unhooked her bra, and how she ever so lightly grazed Sansa’s breasts when she slid it down was overwhelming.

Even as she was so blindly aroused, Sansa couldn’t help a smirk of her own as she watched Margaery bite her lip while staring at Sansa’s chest.

Before she felt Margaery hook her fingers into the fabric of Sansa’s panties and slide them down.

Margaery took a very deep breath as she stepped back and took in Sansa’s entire shape. And then she smiled, and the smile was so, so lovely.

“Let’s go,” she said softly, as she spun around and gave Sansa the perfect view of her butt.

She followed Margaery through one of the doors that led to the assumed bathroom, spacious and clean. Sansa’s hands were on the verge of trembling when Margaery got the sliding glass door opened.

The brunette stepped into the cabin and immediately turned the shower on. Walking through the door, Sansa watched in a haze the way Margaery closed her eyes and tilted her head back under the water; how it dripped down her chest, and her belly button, and the creamy skin of her thighs.

Margaery’s head was still leaned back as her fingers brushed her now wet hair, and she didn’t notice Sansa approaching her until she felt gentle hands stroking her waist.

Sansa melted when Margaery opened her eyes and looked up at her with the most joyful smile.

She grabbed Sansa by the shoulders and reverted their positions, and it was Sansa’s turn to shut her eyes when the warm water hit her.

Only to open them back up when she recognized the feeling of Margaery’s lips on her neck, leaving lingering wet kisses over the whole expanse of her throat. Margaery’s tongue was hot against Sansa, and every once in a while she would graze her teeth gently against her skin.

Sansa felt like she could lose herself in that sensation for so much longer, but there was just too much she wanted to do to Margaery, and all of a sudden she was tired of waiting. Which was why one of her hands came up from Margaery’s side to her hair, pulling her away from her neck and bringing their lips together.

It was absolutely not the first time she kissed a woman who was shorter than her, but the height difference had never been as enjoyable as it was at that moment, with Margaery moving onto her tiptoes to keep up with Sansa.

Sansa, who kissed her harder than they had ever done it before, controlling the kiss by the hold she had on Margaery’s hair, and bringing her closer by the grip she had on her waist.

And the moment their bodies flushed against one another was-

Glorious.

Their nipples pressed against the other’s front, the damp skin of their stomachs rubbing against each other. They had never been so close.

And Sansa had never been so hungry for the taste of somebody, and she made it clear to Margaery, with how her tongue slid into her mouth, entangling with hers; and Margaery wasn’t shy to retaliate, pulling Sansa’s lips between her own, sucking on her tongue.

At some point, Sansa felt one of Margaery’s hands leave her completely, and she realized a second later she had turned the shower off, as the water no longer fell over them. Sansa chuckled against her but got distracted when she mirrored the grip Sansa had on her curls, burying her hands in soaked red hair. 

And when Margaery slid one of them all the way down to cup Sansa’s ass, Sansa decided to copy her too, the hand resting on Margaery’s waist slipping lower and offering a squeeze to one of her butt cheeks, which made Margaery smile amidst their kiss.

For some reason, the feeling of Margaery’s smile against her lips reminded Sansa of the words that had come from her mouth so long ago, the words that had hunted Sansa in so many nights, words that hung in her ears like a curse. Or a reminder. A reminder of what she couldn’t have.

Expect that now she could.

_I want somebody who can take control._

And just like that, Sansa had Margaery pressed against the wall, the hand behind her scalp protecting her from bumping her head against the white marble.

A groan left Margaery’s lips, and she drew a heavy breath when Sansa sunk her teeth on the side of her neck a little harder than she should, perhaps, if the way Margaery dug her nails into Sansa’s back was any indication. Sansa licked the spot, before moving upwards and sucking on the skin of Margaery’s pulse.

She continued her work on Margaery’s throat at the same time she scratched the outer side of her left thigh, until the hand on the back of Margaery’s head slid down her neck, and her chest, and cupped her right breast.

She offered merely one squeeze, brushed her thumb lightly over her nipple before she dove in, and wrapped her lips around it. She gave it a broad lick, feeling and adoring its texture against her tongue, and pulled it between her lips. A loud sigh escaped Margaery’s throat, one that became a quiet moan once Sansa began to suck lightly on it.

After a while she left her nipple, peppering Margaery’s chest with soft kisses before coming up, nipping delicately at Margaery’s earlobe. And then she breathed against her, “Has this healed?”, as she caressed Margaery’s pierced nipple.

“Hm,” Margaery stroked Sansa’s back while her other hand tightened its hold on Sansa’s hair. “I think so,” she answered faintly.

“And may I touch it?”

Margaery seemed so eager when she nodded, Sansa laughed as she kissed her cheek and mimicked Margaery’s motion from before, pulling the ring between two fingertips.

Before diving in once again, kissing the side of her breast before lapping at her nipple, feeling the taste of the warm metal. And then hearing Margaery’s whimper when she pulled the piercing between her teeth, so, so, carefully.

She placed a few other wet, disjointed kisses on the sides of Margaery’s breasts and her ribs before she came back up to look her in the eyes, as she felt her hands trembling with anticipation.

And even if she wanted to take control of Margaery, as she’d admitted to wishing for, she still allowed herself a good look at her perfect face. Her eyes shut, her breathing labored, the sweet flush on her cheeks.

 _She is so inconceivably gorgeous,_ Sansa thought to herself, as she licked her lips to try and recollect the taste of her body. Despite her excitement, the excitement that appeared to burn into her from the inside out, she did allow herself a moment.

She wanted her so bad, especially when Margaery opened her eyes and smiled like Sansa had never seen her smile before; carefree, excited and so, so full of want.

She used both hands to pull Sansa’s face to hers, and they kissed while Sansa let her hand roam down Margaery's body until it landed on her heat.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” Sansa highlighted weakly against Margaery’s lips, felt her smirking in response as she explored her slit.

“That’s what you do to me, darling.” Even if the arousal in her tone was indisputable, her voice was still too firm for Sansa’s liking.

She decided she would change that.

The tight circles against Margaery’s clit were slow at first, but Sansa would increase the speed by the second, and it wasn’t long before Margaery’s head bumped against the wall as she held on to Sansa’s shoulder blades for dear life.

And Sansa was enchanted, by the way she squeezed her eyes shut, bit her bottom lip, how her breathing became so rapid.

The movement of her hips, how it echoed the way Sansa’s fingers moved, how she pushed herself against Sansa; it was the sexiest thing Sansa had ever seen, and it honestly shouldn’t have surprised her - but it did.

Sansa’s free hand came up to massage her breast, as her fingertips slowed their pace.

 _“Faster”,_ Margaery begged in a husky voice that made Sansa’s ears perk.

“Do you still want me?”

Sansa knew she did. It was obvious to anyone who saw them, it was evident and plain, but Sansa still wished to hear it - Gods knew what hearing Margaery stating that all those months before had done to her.

Margaery captured the hand between her legs, her own fingers forcing Sansa’s to speed up, and that annoyed Sansa in the utterly best way, even as Margaery affirmed with the most provocative smile, “More than ever before.”

_I want somebody who can-_

Sansa pressed a gentle kiss on her lips, a sweet moment before she stopped her motion altogether, which made Margaery look up at her in clear indignation.

And gasp when Sansa grabbed her by the arms and spun her around, pressing Margaery’s front against the wall.

She heard the throaty laughter that left Margaery, but she didn’t mind - she would shut her up right away, her left hand sliding forward, down Margaery’s stomach, until her arm was stuck between the cold marble and Margaery’s body. Her fingers resumed their previous job on Margaery’s clit, while Sansa’s other hand stroked her firm, smooth butt once again before moving downwards, two fingers sliding into Margaery’s unbelievably hot center.

“Gods,” Margaery moaned, and Sansa pressed her body against Margaery’s back as she took her.

It wasn’t easy, fucking a woman like that. It wasn’t, but it was what Sansa wanted precisely, and she had never been so disposed, so willing and eager to make someone feel good as she was at that moment, and she gave it all - as she used both hands on Margaery, and kissed the nape of her neck.

Fuck, it wasn’t easy _at all,_ but Sansa believed that Margaery had been already thankfully overstimulated by then, and she was so responsive to Sansa’s touch, the enchanting way her hips bucked, and the way she moaned softly while Sansa thrust and curled inside of her and tried and coordinate it all with her other hand.

 _“Harder,”_ Margaery pleaded, clenching around Sansa.

 _“Fuck,”_ Sansa mumbled against her shoulder and obliged, being rewarded moments later by the low, strangled cry that left Margaery’s throat as she came.

Sansa pulled her hands from Margaery’s core, slipping her arms around her waist as she breathed against her neck, as she felt Margaery’s own, ragged breathing.

A moment went by before Margaery seemed to leave a trance, spinning around to meet Sansa face to face, pulling her in for a lazy, tender kiss.

“Thank you,” she whispered against Sansa’s lips, as the redhead embraced her tightly. “You are so good.”

“You are so sexy,” Sansa confessed, kissing her, “And better than I could’ve ever predicted.”

Margaery chuckled, “I think I still ought to prove that.”

When they separated, Sansa noticed that her fingers were still glistening, and she didn’t even hesitate to put them into her mouth, closing her eyes at the warm, silky taste of Margaery.

Only to open them up to find Margaery staring at her with an interested glint in _her_ eyes.

But she didn’t say anything, merely settled her hands on Sansa’s hips and leisurely led them to reverse their positions, and it was Sansa’s turn to find herself against the wall.

“Did you like this?”, she touched the fingers Sansa had just tasted, and the redhead nodded in response, her eyes never leaving Margaery’s.

Her nails softly scratched down Sansa’s jaw, to her neck, and then her chest - and Sansa shivered when fingers drew circles on her breasts, brushed over her nipples.

Margaery continued her path until she reached the middle of Sansa’s legs, and two fingertips gently explored throughout soaked folds, and Sansa drew in a sharp breath, as her whole body quivered.

“Did it get you even more turned on than you were before?”

“Yes,” Sansa whispered, fighting her urge to beg for Margaery to touch her properly.

And that was when she realized Margaery had kept her distance until then, only her hands touching Sansa - she realized it once she identified the spontaneous tingle she felt whenever Margaery got too close to her; Margaery’s body was almost touching hers now.

“And why is that?”, she crooked her head.

“You taste so good and you’re so warm,” Sansa told her what she wanted straightaway. “Try it.”

And Sansa worshiped the way Margaery’s lips fell open and eyes widened when Sansa drove one finger into her, without any warning. Margaery didn’t say anything, merely held Sansa by the hips, and closed her eyes for just a second as Sansa withdrew her finger.

Bringing it to Margaery’s lips, and she lost it when Margaery smirked, seizing Sansa’s wrist, licking her finger from the base to the tip, sucking on it lightly, engulfing it into her mouth. Her eyes didn’t leave Sansa’s for even a moment.

Once she was done, Sansa had no option other than kissing her hungrily, because-

Well.

Margaery didn’t let it last long, though, descending her lips from Sansa’s to her jaw and then her neck.

There was still _so_ much Sansa wished to do to Margaery, and the driving desire to touch her had made it a bit tricky for Sansa to just relax and enjoy the moments she’d been on the focus of Margaery’s attention before; now that some, _some,_ of the want had been sated - for now -, she could truly appreciate Margaery’s lips, and hands, on her.

She was so skillful, the way she nipped at just the right places along the column of Sansa’s neck, how she sucked on where it met her shoulder, how _hot_ her tongue was against Sansa’s skin.

And when she moved down, lips landing one of Sansa’s breasts, she locked her hands behind damp brown hair. And when she moved her tongue in circles around Sansa’s nipple at the same time she kneaded her other breast, Sansa’s head fell against the wall with a thump.

She pressed her legs together while giving up on trying to keep track of what Margaery was doing; with her lips, and her teeth, and the way her fingernails skimmed down from the nape of Sansa’s head to her lower back, to her side, all the way to her stomach and back, giving her all sorts of goosebumps.

Margaery’s lips took their time in a few specific spots, such as the skin of her right ribs and the inner side of her left breast - and when her nails scratched her back harder than they had before, Sansa began to suspect that Margaery was trying to mark her, and the thought alone was enough to make her moan.

Before she braced herself when Margaery began to trail up her torso, straightening herself and cupping Sansa between her legs without any notice.

She smirked against Sansa’s neck while exploring her, fingertips dancing through Sansa’s wetness, and when she made just the right pressure against Sansa’s clit, Sansa crossed her arms around Margaery’s shoulders, yanking her in and deciding to avoid even the most insignificant distance between them.

“Marg-”, left her in a whisper as Margaery heightened her pressure and her rhythm.

Margaery sucked on the spot below Sansa’s ear when she replaced her two fingertips with her thumb, sliding the same two fingers into Sansa, and the intrusion made blue eyes roll back.

And when she felt a third finger very slowly, experimentally, cautiously making its way in, she knew she wouldn’t last very long.

And she didn’t, calling out Margaery’s name once again when she lost herself around her fingers and with how she moved inside of her.

Delicate fingers stroked Sansa’s jaw when she opened her eyes. She did not loosen the hold she had on Margaery; she wanted to keep her there, as close as it was conceivable.

“I think you’re perfect,” Margaery declared, her breath hot on Sansa’s ear, causing her the most delicious shiver.

Sansa hummed, “If I’m not mistaken, you are the one who is accustomed to being addressed as so.”

“I’m willing to share the title.”

Sansa had never felt so warm, with Margaery so incredibly close, with the remaining, pleasant ardency still present in the bottom half of her body. And knowing that Margaery, Margaery, had caused it, and the memory of what _she_ had done to Margaery minutes before.

And the conviction that there was still so, so much more to come. They would still touch each other so many other times, and so many more conversations, and days, and moments and-

She wouldn’t have been able to stop the smile that spread all over her face even if she’d tried, and she was glad Margaery was hiding her face in Sansa’s neck and couldn’t see her.

She did feel it when Sansa tightened her arms around her, trying to feel her impossibly closer, and Sansa felt her grinning.

“All of what I said before, about needing to shower before you and I did anything… it might have been the lamest excuse imaginable to drag you in here with me, but I still should clean myself,” she muttered, and Sansa chuckled when she let her go.

But Margaery didn’t have the chance to step away without Sansa holding her face and hauling her in and pressing the fondest kiss on her lips - merely sucking on her bottom lip so slightly while stroking her cheekbones. And when it was over she smiled and stared so deeply into wondrously doe eyes, and the almost imperceptible blush on Margaery’s cheeks was everything.

The water fell nearly aggressively over them when Margaery turned the shower back on, and the fifteen minutes taken for them to properly wash themselves were languid.

Their whole path out of the bathroom, the entire minutes they spent drying their hair; held an expected but still intriguing atmosphere - they were silent, and it wasn’t an exactly uncomfortable silence like the one from hours before, but it was still sensible, as they exchanged quick glances and were a bit too careful not to touch each other when passing on the hairdryer.

Sansa didn’t mind, though. She quite liked it, their sheepish ways and the quietude around them; she was confident that it meant there was _something_ there. That they _knew_ it hadn’t been just a day of enlightening their misunderstandings or a night of wild sex - it was the beginning of something.

It held a perspective, one they had insinuated and cleared out but not _fully_ discussed yet, and they were aware of it.

“You know,” Sansa mused, staring at the mirror as she got dressed in her black tank top and matching shorts. “Whenever I would let my mind wander, and thought about the possibility of spending the night with you for the first time,”

She turned to the bed, where Margaery already lied under the covers, wearing nothing but an oversized dark green hoodie.

“Sleeping with clothes on was not on the picture,” she finished, and Margaery smiled as she tapped the bed, inquiring Sansa to lie by her side.

“How many times did you have such intrepid thoughts?”

“One or two,” Sansa said as she settled in bed.

And she bit away a smile when Margaery moved closer to her immediately, and their feet entangled almost timidly.

“You must understand that we are no longer teenagers.” Margaery met Sansa’s eyes. “I had such a tiring day at work, and you traveled,” she stretched her legs, bumping them against Sansa’s, “And my thighs hurt from all the up against the wall act I’ve just participated in.”

Sansa giggled and tentatively crossed her arm around Margaery’s waist. “I might be up for a challenge, but… I think I can try and work your stamina up just fine in the near future,” she teased and adored the way Margaery's lopsided smirk made its appearance.

“I look forward to seeing what you’ve got,” and their breath mingled.

They didn’t say anything else, merely gazed at one another, and Sansa treasured it; they’d had sex, but they had never had a moment like that - too physically close to being appropriate for two friends, too calm to be possible in the midst of the sexual tension surrounding them earlier that evening. Now they knew they were no longer just friends, and the craving had been sated - again, some -, and they did nothing other than diving into each other’s eyes amid the silence. Up until,

“I don’t do morning sex, you should know,” Margaery announced candidly, and when Sansa furrowed her eyebrows, she explained,

“Well, not exactly _morning_ sex. I just, it can’t be the very first thing I do in the morning,” she created some distance between them, staring at Sansa directly. “And I most definitely don’t like being woken up by someone touching me,” she emphasized like a warning, and Sansa laughed.

“If you want to do anything in the morning, keep in mind I’ll have to pee, wash up, have a glass of water, _and_ stretch before we can get down to it.”

“Fair enough,” Sansa consented, before manifesting her own revelation, “And I, for one, don’t like fucking around the apartment.”

Margaery’s eyes questioned her, and she clarified, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for unusual places such as cars, or inside the pool, or at your professor’s office when he’s in class.”

Margaery narrowed her eyes at those last words, and Sansa grinned.

“But having my way with you on the balcony or the dinner table will _not_ be my priority if we have a perfectly comfortable, suitable bed just a room away.”

But Margaery doubted her, “You do realize we’ve just had shower sex?”

“Because it was our first time and I didn’t want to be rude,” as in, _I just couldn’t wait to get my hands on you already and the usual demands I have regarding my sex life did not cross my mind at that moment._

“Okay,” Margaery sighed. “I’m glad we’ve got some of this topic covered.” She held out her open palm in a somewhat lazy high five offer, and when Sansa’s hand met hers their fingers entwined.

Margaery smiled dearly at that, using her right leg to yank Sansa even closer. And all of a sudden they were cuddled in Margaery’s bed, the brunette’s head resting on Sansa’s shoulder as her thumb stroked Sansa’s jaw.

Blue eyes were closed as Sansa focused on nothing other than the texture of the soft fabric under her hand, her own heartbeat, and the smell of brown hair; the warmth of the body next to hers and how she appeared to fit perfectly in Margaery’s arms.

Margaery’s voice was tentative when she spoke, “I’ve been... contemplating the possibility of going to Oldtown next weekend.”

Sansa smiled even before she opened her eyes. “And for how long have you been weighing on this _possibility?”_

“For the past few hours,” she replied, her index finger outlining the curve of Sansa’s ear. “I don’t know, suddenly I recalled how much I find that city stunning and how much time has passed since I last visited.”

“And that’s the only reason?” Sansa quirked her eyebrow when Margaery lifted her amused eyes.

“Among others,” she shot her crooked smile. “And at the weekend _after_ that, you should come here again.”

“Oh yeah?”

Margaery pressed her lips together as she nodded. “You’ll need to so you can have a chance to get to know the city. Because tomorrow you won’t.”

Sansa’s brows fell into a playful frown. “And what makes you think that?”

“The fact that I have already made plans for our Sunday and according to those, the furthest place I would be taking you would be _over_ the kitchen counter,” she breathed against Sansa’s mouth, before withdrawing with a sigh. “But due to your recent announcement, I think it’s safe to say we will, literally, not be leaving this bed.”

And it made Sansa giggle, as well as tightening the arm she had around her. “And on the weekend after that,” she repeated Margaery’s words. “You should visit Oldtown again.”

“And why is that?” Margaery whispered, her eyes heavily lidded.

Sansa shrugged in return, even if that small exchange had caused her heart to beat much faster than it had ever since they left the shower, even if she knew she was displaying the silliest smile at that moment - the moment she and Margaery were talking about the _future_ , very near future, yes, but still a future, which was something she had never dared to think of.

“Just... because.”

Regretted thinking of, dreaming of, and used to loathe herself whenever she mused about that or so many other things when it came to Margaery.

The idea that she could now, yes, daydream, envision, and truthfully believe in all of those things together and that it wouldn’t be utopian, impossible, or morally wrong threatened to make her giddy.

Especially when Margaery placed the tenderest kiss on Sansa’s lips, before leaning her head on her shoulder again. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

Sansa smiled when she stroked back soft golden brown, tousled waves. She smiled when she felt Margaery’s deeper, slower breathing against her, an indication she was giving in to sleep.

She smiled when she realized that even in a semi-conscious state, Margaery’s pinky was still lightly grazing the area behind Sansa’s ear; smiled at the way Margaery had used her leg to pull her even closer.

And she most definitely smiled when she stopped to analyze the image in her arms - discerning the relaxed, untroubled, content way Margaery had curled up into her.

_I wanted to cuddle at night and not feel suffocated._

Sansa closed her eyes.

It did.

It was a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to be honest with you guys, I had a hard time writing this conclusion and I am not fully satisfied with it - but I do think writers are frequently overly critical of their own work, so I'm just hoping I didn't disappoint you guys haha
> 
> Thank you so much for everyone who commented and left kudos in this story! My main goal is not to let you down with this ending, and I'd love to know your thoughts on this final chapter and the story as a whole!


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